Servilion
by Vermilion Sokolov
Summary: Chris and Martin run into a serval and her cubs in the Serengeti, but they also meet a redheaded poacher by the name of Vermilion Sokolov. But she's not just any poacher! Soon, the Wild Kratts will learn that they aren't the only ones with creature powers. (Oh, and Zach is in this one, too!)
1. Skyfall

**Chapter 1: Skyfall**

Slithering within the tall grass, Martin couldn't see much in front of him, but he thanked nature for giving rattlesnakes thermal vision. _He has to be around here somewhere,_ he thought. He had recharged the battery in his creature power suit earlier that morning, so there was no problem when he had reached into his pack and pulled out an old piece of snake skin from his and his brother's last adventure in the Sonoran Desert. Right now, though, the Serengeti sun was already heating his blue scales. Martin wiped his forehead of sweat when a green harpy eagle suddenly swooped down and scooped him up.

Chris laughed triumphantly, "I WIN!" He soared into the sky swiftly with Martin in his talons. Martin retorted, "You almost gave me a heart attack!" But Martin was one of the last people on Earth to hold a grudge against his own brother, especially if he was just playing Creature Power Hide-and-Seek with him. Before he could argue any further, they both spotted a gold-and-black shape far below them.

She was slinking elegantly across the savannah with her large, oval ears to seek mice, but instead, she noticed a strange green bird flying above her with a blue rattlesnake. It circled her before steadily landing close to her, and both animals suddenly glowed green and blue before turning into humans.

"Awesome!" Chris cheered. "Martin, look at who we've got here!" He strolled over to the spotted cat as not to scare her and petted her. The wildcat purred happily. She liked these guys.

Martin smiled. "I can't believe it," he said. "A serval! I was hoping we'd see one." Chris added, "I know. I love her fur. She can really blend into the grass with these gold-and-black patterns. And check out these ears! They're so huge, I bet she could spy on anyone with them."

"Really?" Martin asked.

"Yeah. A serval's ears are especially created for hearing prey miles away and listening for small rodents underground. They were meant to heighten the serval's ability to hunt. They can actually hunt better than any wildcat, you know. They catch their prey more than lions and cheetahs do."

"Skyfall," Martin said suddenly.

"What?"

"That's her name. Skyfall."

"…which means?"

"You said that she could spy on anyone with her huge ears. That reminded me of the latest James Bond movie that came out. It's called _Skyfall_." Martin then chuckled, "Seriously, bro, you _have_ to go to the movies more often…"

Bulleting through the tall grass, a bright red blur stunned a nearby pride of lions resting in the sun. The trail of smoke behind it made them cough. The motorcycle and its skilled owner gracefully swerved every rock and crevice that got in the way. This wasn't just any motorcycle. This was a red-and-black Yamaha YZF-RI.

Wait, it wasn't red―it was _vermilion_.

No person could see Vermilion Sokolov's face under the same colored helmet with the jet-black visor. Her white, sleeveless shirt blew in the wind, and her desert Army pants protected her legs from any flying dirt. When she parked the superbike, the peach-skinned, freckled woman yanked off her helmet and sighed. Just a month ago, she was in a duel with a Mexican gang lord. Even though she won the fight, her thigh was partially lacerated, and her right shoulder was dislocated. She couldn't stay at the hospital too long because if she did, the Mexican authorities would've found out she was on the F.B.I.'s Top Ten Most Wanted list. And that would have sucked.

_Finally, _she thought. _Some quiet time for myself. Just me and my arrows. _

On her back was her simple brown backpack, and she set it next to the superbike. Through her left arm was her polished bow with a newly replaced bowstring. Slung over her right shoulder was a quiver full of arrows.

On her right upper arm was a mysterious tattoo―or, rather, a completely natural mark on her skin, in the shape of a DNA molecule.

A breeze from the northwest whispered through the woman's cropped, wavy, natural red hair. Vermilion closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. Just the touch of the smooth wood of her bow empowered her. With every heartbeat, all the memories of her past adventures and worries faded away.

Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her. She grinned evilly. In a split second, she spun around, fitted an arrow into her bow, and instantly shot it in the direction of the sound. Sailing through the air at an infinite speed, the arrow lodged itself right between the eyes of an innocent Thompson's gazelle, knocking him to the ground. All the poor thing wanted to do was eat some nice grass…but they say fate is a cruel mistress.

"_Podeba moya!_" the woman whooped triumphantly in Russian, her native language. "A perfect shot!" The huntress half ran, half danced to her victim. Studying it, she said, "Been a while since I've sold any furs. Wonder if anybody's ever forgotten 'bout Vermilion Sokolov." Then again, she'd like it if some people _would_ forget about her. Outdoor markets were very common in this part of Africa, but peering eyes and ears were everywhere. One wrong move, and someone would find out she didn't have a hunting license and that she killed this animal on a wildlife preserve. _Stupid poaching laws, _she silently cursed.

Drawing out her dagger, she began to skin the body. At first, Vermilion wanted to take out her syringe and draw some blood, but she shook her head. _Nyet,_ she thought. _My powers ain't worth using on a worthless piece of _prey_. I need an animal that strikes fear into the hearts of my enemies. Something with teeth or claws or something…_

A gold shape blurred past her. She whipped around to spot a small, sleek cat dash down the grass and swiftly _LEAP_ into the air. It sailed high into the sky to sink its claws into a small, unsuspecting bird. On the fall down, the black-spotted cat bit into the bird's neck―and successfully landed on its feet back on the ground!

The huntress eyed this mystifying wildcat.

A slow smirk formed on her face.

She readied her arrow.


	2. The Bulletin

**Chapter 2: The Bulletin **

"Four servals!?" Aviva gasped. "In just one hour? Who would do such a thing!?"

She, Koki, and Jimmy all read and reread in disbelief the computer screen. It was the Serengeti National Park website, and a bulletin had just come in about the mysterious disappearances of four tagged servals:

_On July 17, 2013, at exactly 10:16 a.m., the server at the main park building indicated a lost radio signal between the server and a tag on a serval, an endangered wildcat that lives here in the Serengeti. Two rangers drove to the spot where the signal disappeared and discovered a tag on the ground with a note attached to it. The note had the initials 'V.S.' on it which serve as the only identification of the catnapper. Seventy-five minutes later, another serval disappeared, and twenty minutes after that, two more were gone. Two more had a note with the same initials, and the third had a note with a drawing of a hand gesture on it. When the picture was shown to some American tourists, they stated it was called "flipping the bird," which is considered a very obscene gesture in their country. Hunting endangered species, especially in a national reserve, is against the law. Authorities are now searching for anyone who might have more information on the subject. Please call the number below or approach a park staff member if you can help. _

"Wild Kratts, we got a creature mystery on our hands!" Aviva proclaimed. "We gotta alert the bros!"Koki quickly tapped some buttons on her keyboard and said, "Calling Kratt brothers! Come in, Martin! Come in, Chris!"

Martin's face zapped onto the screen, and Chris' popped up beside him. "What's up, Koki?" Martin asked.

Aviva stated, "We've just heard news of a mystery catnapper right here in the Serengeti. We need you two to help investigate."

"A catnapper? How horrible!" Chris shouted. "What kind of cats has he been getting?"

"Servals," Aviva replied. "Four already, to be exact."

Martin gasped. "That means we gotta watch over Skyfall!"

Jimmy asked, "Who?"

"Skyfall. She's this cool new serval we met just a few minutes ago. I think she's heading to her den."

Hurriedly, Aviva urged, "Then you have to catch up to her! Those missing servals were gone in just forty minutes! We're dealing with a professional here. You can't take your eyes off her for even a _second._ Got it?"

"Got it!" both brothers said before zapping out.

"You know what's weird?" Chris said to his brother while catching up with their feline friend. "Servals usually hunt at night. I don't know why Skyfall's out here in the daytime."

Martin retorted, "Maybe there are some other predators out at night, and there's less competition in the daytime. The leopard can actually eat a serval for lunch if it's hungry enough, y'know. Or, it could be the catnapper."

Chris shrugged. Running up to her, the brothers noticed the entrance to Skyfall's den, an abandoned aardvark burrow. Martin suddenly beamed. "Chris, look!" Three little heads popped out from the hole with huge ears and the softest eye ever seen.

"_Awww….._" they both sighed. Eager to meet their mother, the three cubs dawdled out from the hole and rubbed their heads against Skyfall's warm fur. She licked each one happily like a human mother would kiss her children when she came home from work.

Aviva's hologram popped up from the creature pod. "¡_Ay, que lindos!_" she chirped. "Who are these cuties?"

Martin replied, "We just found them. I haven't found any names for them yet."

"Well, I'm glad you found them," Aviva stated. "Three more servals are under your care, now. We have no clue where that catnapper is now. Oh, I called to tell you that Koki already sent a report to all Wild Kratts Kids and has sent out some of our mechanical quails to search the park. Nobody has reported anything back yet, but every little thing counts."

"Thanks, Aviva!" Chris waved. Her hologram disappeared.

Martin walked up to the cubs. "Okay, what are _your _names?" It didn't take him long. "Alright, how about…Goldfinger, Get Smart, and Casino Royalle?"

"Get Smart? That's not a James Bond movie!"

"I can name her 'Die Another Day' instead."

"…never mind."


	3. Hunting for Armadillos and Servals

**Chapter 3: Hunting for Armadillos and Servals**

"This is _my_ watering hole now, suckers!"

Zach's yacht loomed above a herd of wildebeest that were drinking from the hole.

The wildebeests stared at the boat that paraded itself down the lake. Usually, when humans came around, it would be the local tribesmen on their canoes or one of those mediocre tour boats full of light-skinned humans. This was different. This was a huge, gray boat with a _very_ light-skinned human and three…three…three…

…what _are_ those things?

"Zachbots!" the tall, pale human yelled at the top of his lungs. "Tell those…those ugly cow-thingies that we mean _business!_" Every wildebeest stopped drinking to stare at the weird human-things that flew at them. They suddenly started spinning wildly and…tweeting furiously.

_Tweeting?_ Were these things birds? Well, they didn't have wings. Or beaks. Or feathers. And their eyes had an unnaturally red glow. Whatever these human-things were, the wildebeests sure didn't want anything to do with them.

As the noisy Zachbots zoomed closer, the wildebeests panicked. They hastily backed away from the edge of the watering hole and called for each other to _run!_ Every mother called for its calf and every calf for its mother. The herd began to stampede from the scary flying Zachbots. One little calf had been wading in the water and just now noticed an ominous Zachbot rocketing straight towards it. Shrieking in fear, the little one scampered out of the water for its family. Vanishing across the tall grass, the stampede thundered away.

Zach laughed. "Good work, Zachbots!" he called. "Now we can get to some varmint-catching!" He took out his trusty engineering notebook and flipped to the page with his latest invention.

It was a ball―but not just any ball. This was the Varmitech 4.5-Lb. Destroyer. It was a fancy name for a new line of bowling balls, but Zach knew it would make for amazing advertising. "The Serengeti is just the place I need to find the key parts for my bowling balls! I know this place is teeming with armadillos. They're somewhere out there, hiding in all that tall grass. I can just _feel _it."

He was on Skype with Gourmand the other day to brag about his new idea. The chef had stared at him like he was from another planet, replying that armadillos lived in the American southwest, not the Serengeti. "That trip of yours is gon' be a waste of time," Gourmand had said.

Zach scoffed. "Stupid fry cook. What does _he_ know about animals? He's just jealous he doesn't have a nice yacht and jet like I do." He examined his sketches carefully then ordered his Zachbots to him. They all lined up and faced him.

"Zachbots, listen up! I need bowling balls of all sizes, so when you find the armadillos, bring me their kittens, too. They'll make nice mini-balls. Now go get me some roly-poly varmints!"

As his mechanical army left, Zach grinned. There's absolutely _nowhere_ in the Serengeti the armadillos could hide.

Peering from inside a bush, Vermilion patiently waited for any nice animals to walk by. She had parked her motorcycle behind the tree right next to her bush, and the last four servals she captured were all hostage in separate covered cages. She decided not to kill them just yet. _Let them spend the last minutes of their lives suffering,_ she thought delightfully.

Along with her bow and arrow, she carried a small backpack that carried her essentials. Y'know, water, food, the local currency, a blanket, some gauze…but she carried something else:

Her hypodermic needles.

Vermilion didn't have diabetes. She didn't have any food allergies. She wasn't a drug user (Even a villain knows better than to destroy her own life and body with drugs.). Yet her needles were so valuable, so intrinsic that she guarded them with her own life. She zipped open the pocket and pulled out a syringe. Like all the other needles she had, it was filled with blood.

Animal blood.

Opening another pocket, she took out a Sharpie and carefully wrote on the side of the syringe: _**SERVAL.**_

Vermilion peeked at her DNA mark. Some people have asked her if it was a tattoo, but she always told them it was not made of ink. Some people have asked her if it was a birth mark, but she always told them she wasn't born with it. Some people asked her why it looks like a double helix, and she always told them that if they didn't shut the [bleep] up and mind their own business, she'd sock their nose in.

That usually shut them up.

She twiddled the syringe of serval blood with a small smile. "_Da, da, _I can't wait for the perfect time to unleash the power of the serval. When that time comes, Imma be the best jumper on the planet…"

"Hey, bro, look at that!"

Vermilion turned around and peeked from the other side of the bush. Not too far off were two men surrounded by―gasp!―more servals! Four, to be exact, except three of them were little cubs. Vermilion tried to figure out who the men were, though. "I feel like I've seen them somewhere…" she said pensively to herself. One was slightly shorter than the other with brown hair and a green shirt. The other had dirty blonde hair and a blue shirt. Laughing happily, they rustled with the cubs.

A spark flew into her head. "They're the Kratt brothers!" she whispered aloud. _Of course!_ she thought. _These are the same guys who are always saving animals, like those beavers up in Canada, and those dolphins in the Caribbean. Oh, why do those motherfudgers have to be _here _of all places? _

She sighed. "Oh, well." She slowly picked up a pebble. "Nothing a little deceit can't do."

Aiming the rock at some tall grass far behind the brothers, Vermilion threw the pebble as far as she could.


	4. Joana Smith

**Chapter 4: Joanna Smith**

The stone landed exactly where she wanted it to.

Martin perked up. "Chris, did you hear something?"

"Yeah, I heard it from over there," his brother replied, pointing to the direction of the sound. "Maybe it's another serval."

"Let's go see!" Martin said eagerly. Both brothers paced away from the cubs.

Vermilion smirked. _Now's my chance!_ She immediately pulled out a small pistol and jogged towards Skyfall. In less than a second, while running, Vermilion loaded the gun and disabled the safety. Pointing the handgun directly at the mother serval, she squeezed the trigger.

A silenced shot fired. A red, fuzzy tranq bullet buried itself right into Skyfall's neck. Skyfall had heard Vermilion coming on the offense, but it was too late! She staggered helplessly before falling into the dirt.

The sun right above her, Vermilion's silhouette towered over her, and she grinned maliciously down at Skyfall. The serval mother stared at the scary, redheaded human, silently begging for mercy. Vermilion aimed her gun at her.

She pulled the trigger.

Another tranq bullet struck Skyfall. "I could've killed you now, you know," she said casually, "but it's too boring if you die too fast." Vermilion had to hurry. The tranquilizer only lasts for about an hour.

"Hey! Who're _you!?_" Martin called.

Vermilion's heart stopped. _Oh, sh―_

"What are you doing to Skyfall!?" Chris yelled.

She quickly picked up the serval and heaved her over her shoulder. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. _Ohcrap, ohcrap, ohcrap, ohcrap, ohcrap, ohcrap!…if they find out what I'm up to, they'll try and stop me. What do I say? C'mon, Sokolov, think of something! THINK!_

Martin and Chris ran up to the lady that had just appeared. She had unmistakably bright, wavy red-orange hair that was cropped just below her chin. She was wearing a plain white, sleeveless shirt and desert camouflage pants, kind of like somebody in the Army would wear. When she turned to look at them, they could see her freckled face and bright green eyes. Alarmed, she quickly slung an unconscious Skyfall over her right shoulder.

She gave a friendly smile. "Oh, hi there! What brings you to the Serengeti?"

Martin replied, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing with that serval?"

"Oh, this one?" the lady asked casually. "Sorry, but the park is asking us to collect some of the servals to keep at headquarters."

Chris asked, "You work for the park?"

The redhead giggled. "Oh, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Joanna. Joanna Smith." She shook the brothers' hands. "I've been a ranger here for almost three years now, and I guess I've grown quite attached to these cuties. You know, you two look familiar. Have we met?"

Martin smiled. "Well, Joanna, you may have heard of us before." He put his arm around his little brother. "We're the Kratt brothers! I'm Martin, and this is Chris."

Joanna answered excitedly, "Oh my goodness! I've heard of you! Didn't you help those wolves in North America and find those missing rabbits in the Canadian tundra?"

Chris laughed and remarked, "You must be a huge fan of us, Joanna! Listen, have you heard about that strange catnapping of the servals here recently?"

"I know!" Joanna said worriedly. "That's why I'm getting this big one here. My boss wants me to bring as many as I can back to headquarters to keep under surveillance."

"Make sure you get her cubs, too," Martin suggested. "They're more in danger than any adult serval might ever be. They can't defend themselves as much as their mom. Here, let's help out!" Martin scooped up Goldfinger when Joanna suddenly said, "Um―uh―no, that's okay. I can get them myself!"

"Um, okay…" Martin said as he set Goldfinger on the ground again. _That's odd, _he thought. _If Joanna's so attached to these servals, why is she refusing help? _Chris, thinking the same thing, advised, "Joanna, there are a lot of lions and other predators out there that these little guys are vulnerable to. And why is Skyfall unconscious?"

The lady quickly replied, "It's less injury to the animal if we tranquilize it."

"It's a _she_," Martin corrected.

"Oh, sorry!" She giggled again. "My mistake. The tranq darts are harmless. Skyfall will be in a safe place in no time. My truck's not too far from here. I'll be back in a minute to get the cubs."

"What truck?" asked Chris warily. "There's not a truck in sight."

Joanna said, "Hey, don't worry about Skyfall and her cubs. I can take it from here. But what I would like you to do is find the one kidnapping these servals. Have you looked over there?" She pointed towards the northeast with her right arm. That was when Martin noticed the strange mark on her arm.

"Is that a tattoo?" he asked.

The woman tensed up. "No, it is _not_ a tattoo. No ink, see?"

Martin looked closely and beamed. "Whoa! Seriously? It's natural? Ooh, that's awesome! Chris, come over here! It looks like a DNA molecule! How did you get it? I want one!"

Martin studied it eagerly. Joanna's mark was pretty big. It almost covered her entire upper arm and shoulder. It was made up of two simple curved lines that formed the familiar double helix of a DNA molecule. In the space formed, a line went through the middle where the guanine or thymine would be. Right at the midpoint of this line was a dot that had a small puncture wound in the middle. Actually, it was a puncture _scar_, as if something sharp was inserted into it several times.

"How did you get this mark?" Martin begged to know.

Slowly, Joanna began to grin. A sly twinkle sparked in her eye.

Joanna chuckled spitefully.

"It's not how I got the mark that matters," she retorted guilefully. "It's what the mark _can do._"

For some reason, Martin began to have a sick feeling in his stomach.

Suddenly, Joanna yelled, **"Vermilion metamorphosis!"**

That was when her mark began to glow gold.


	5. The Devil has Creature Powers

**Chapter 5: The Devil has Creature Powers**

Shielding their eyes, the Kratt brothers were nearly blinded by the intense gold-colored light that shone from Joanna. "What's going on!?" Martin shouted. His brother yelled back, "I don't know!" Bewildered, Chris thought, _how does a human give off so much light like that!? That's impossible! The only time that's ever happened before was when…_

…_when Martin and I transform into our creature powers. _Chris gasped. Whenever he gets his creature powers, Chris' entire body shines green, and Martin turns blue whenever he's activating his suit. Could this mean that Joanna had creature powers? _No, _he thought, _that's impossible! Martin and I are the only ones on the entire planet with trans-species technology. Besides, Joanna wasn't wearing any sort of power suit…_

He dared to take a peek, and he saw that Joanna indeed was…_changing_. Her entire body was emanating the gold-colored light. Suddenly, something sprouted from her rear end. Chris shook his head. _Am I seeing things? _Out of her fingers spiked what appeared to be claws, and he noticed her build become _slightly _more muscular.

Soon, the gold light began to fade away, and Joanna looked like anybody but. Her freckled, light peach skin had grown short black fur on it, not counting her back which had a giant white streak down it. She still had her short, red hair, but her face only somewhat human. Her nose was now black and wet, and whiskers had sprouted from her cheeks. Her ears had grown larger and more rounded with black fur on them. Waving in the air out of her behind was a bushy white tail with a black tip. Her pointed teeth shone in the sunlight, and her fingers had grown razor-sharp claws that could tear the brothers to shreds.

Chris stared at her in shock. _What…what _is _this woman!? _

Joanna hissed. "I'll teach you hippies to mess with me!" she yelled aggressively.

A green cloud appeared behind her and drifted towards the brothers. It hit Martin's nose first, and he coughed. "Man, that stinks!" he choked. Chris began to smell the stench, too.

He instantly recognized it: honey badger musk. He thought, _Does that mean that Joanna…_

In a matter of seconds, the musk cloud became unbearably thick. Both brothers coughed violently under the odor, but when they opened their eyes to try and find the way out, their eyes stung painfully. "Chris!" Martin gasped. "Where are you!? Where's―_cough―_Skyfall!?" When he thought his lungs would give out, Martin suddenly saw a dark object in front of him. "Chris?" he wheezed.

"Wrong answer!" Joanna sneered.

Martin squinted to see a set of claws slash at his face. Pure agony pervaded his left cheek. It was as if he was back-hand slapped by a grizzly bear―no, a honey badger. He touched his cheek and looked at his hand. His entire palm was dark red.

Before he could even get up, Joanna roundhouse kicked him on the right cheek and immediately punched him in the nose. Confused, Martin staggered before tumbling to the ground. His entire face throbbed in pain, and he had the brassy taste of blood on his tongue after some from his cheek had trickled into his mouth.

Unable to get up, Martin watched as the half-woman, half-honey badger moves toward him in a predatory stride. The grin on her face removed any credibility he had left in her.

Enraged, Martin rasped, "Who are you?"

The woman kneeled down and leaned towards him so that his face and hers were only an inch away from each other. As she got closer, fear began to bubble in Martin's veins along with more anger. His blue eyes and her green eyes locked before she answered:

"I am Sokolov."


	6. Number Five

**Chapter 6: Number Five**

"Martin? Martin!? _Martin!?_"

Sprinting frantically through the musk cloud, Chris called desperately for his older brother. He coughed violently.

A sharp cry of pain was heard to his left. "Martin!" Chris gasped as he dashed to the sound of his voice.

"_Chriiiis_…" yelled the voice hoarsely before coughing. Chris could barely see through the musk, but he almost tripped on something. The unknown object grunted.

"Martin?"

"Chris?"

"Martin! What happened to you!?"

"Joanna…she scratched me…she kicked me…"

"We gotta get out of this musk!"

Chris grabbed his brother's arms from behind and dragged him "Don't worry, bro. I'll get you out of here." "Skyfall…" Martin groaned.

"Don't worry about Skyfall. We'll get her back. Just rest, Martin."

Slowly, the green cloud began to dissipate. Chris was able to fully open his eyes again. When he placed Martin gently down on the grass, he gasped. Three claw marks bled on his left cheek, and a dark bruise had formed on his right. Martin coughed one last time and opened his eyes. "Chris! Am I ever glad to see you!"

"Martin! Your cheek! I'm calling Aviva. We need first aid, _now._"

"Don't worry, Chris," he responded, laughing lightly. "Just wrap some gauze on it. We need to find Skyfall."

"We need to get you back to the _Tortuga_."

Martin extended his hand. "My legs aren't broken, Chris. It's just my face. We can walk there." Martin grabbed Chris' hand, and he got onto his feet. He let out a deep breath and repeated, "We need to find Skyfall. Bring the cubs." Martin scooped up Get Smart and Goldfinger while Chris got Casino Royalle. As they began the trek to the _Tortuga_, Chris said, "Joanna's the catnapper. That's no question."

"Sokolov."

"What?"

"I asked her who she was, and she said, 'I am Sokolov.' Then she slugged me again, and I was unconscious for about a minute or so. Then you came."

"We gotta tell the others…"

Fresh white bandages covered Martin's cheek. He rested on one of the chairs in the _Tortuga_ while he and his brother reported the incident to the other Wild Kratts. Aviva had set up a little play pen for the cubs and placed a bowl of water for them to drink from. Koki immediately searched the database for the name 'Sokolov.'

When the results came up, she stared at the screen in shock.

She said, "…that ranger you met was no ranger." She turned everyone's attention to her screen.

On it were several mug shots of the woman Chris and Martin have come across. A video popped up of the same woman climbing a skyscraper with suction cups. Another video came up of her running out of a Chase bank with two suitcases filled with hundred-dollar bills. The website for the _New York Times_ pulled up an article that stated, "6 Killed During Museum Heist." Another article from _USA Today _read, "Where in the World is Vermilion Sokolov?"

The official website for CNN was pulled up, and Anderson Cooper was speaking on the left side of the split screen. On the other side was Joanna in an orange prison uniform holding two guns. The bottom caption read "Sokolov Escapes from Guantanamo."

Finally, she opened the official website for the F.B.I. It was the Top Ten Most Wanted list.

**Number Five Most Wanted:**

**Vermilion Sokolov**

**Age: **27 **DOB: **March 15, 1986

**Nationality: **Russian

**Hair: **Red **Eyes: **Green **Height: **5' 10''

**Wanted for: **Murder, poaching, overfishing, illegal marketing, battery, robbery, arson, vandalism, unlicensed weapon possession, blackmail.

**Reward of $100,000,000 for capture, DEAD OR ALIVE. **

**WARNING: ARMED AND DANGEROUS. **

Koki explained, "Did I mention that the list of crimes she has done is in order of intensity?"

Martin asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that just because 'murder' is the first thing on the list doesn't mean it's what she often does. The records say she has 36 counts of murder on her head, but her counts for poaching and overfishing are 54. Vermilion is a career criminal, but her main focus is hunting endangered animals."

Aviva gulped and said, "I can't believe we've never heard of this woman."

Chris tried to let it all sink in. "…She _lied _to us. She tricked Martin and me into thinking that she was a ranger, but she was lying through her teeth! I can't believe we let her get away with it. Oh, Martin, it's all my fault. If I could've just caught her in the act, then you wouldn't be so hurt."

Martin patted his little brother on the shoulder and replied, "Chris, don't be so hard on yourself. Vermilion tricked the both of us. Besides, even if we saw through her act, she would've gotten her honey badger powers and still have gotten away with Skyfall."

Aviva then retorted, "Okay, I just can't accept that. Honey badger powers? Really? Do you two honestly expect me to believe that Vermilion had creature powers?"

Chris argued, "We already told you! She had a tail and claws and musk and teeth and fur and _everything!_ She yelled out 'Vermilion metamorphosis' and activated her creature powers!"

Martin intervened, "Aviva, do you think these scratches came from nowhere?"

She shook her head and crossed her arms. "Yeah, but…it's just impossible. The creature power technology is under _my_ patent. I am the first one on Earth to invent it. There is no other way that anybody else could've created a way to run like a cheetah or soar like an eagle."

Martin responded, "But Aviva, she _didn't _use technology!"

Aviva lifted an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Chris' veins started to grow hot. Was Aviva seriously going to disregard his and Martin's story and the concrete evidence on Martin's face? H e disputed, "Yeah, she didn't have any suit or discs or anything! It all came from the DNA mark on her shoulder! It gave off a gold light, just like our suits give off blue and green lights. Then, like magic, she got her powers!"

Aviva's exasperation had boiled into anger. "_Magic?_" she grimaced.

"Yeah!" Chris yelled, closing in on her. "I can't think of any other way to explain it."

Aviva gave him a cold stare. "Chris, this is the real world. There is _no such thing_ as magic. Only nature and technology. I don't know exactly what Vermilion did or how she did it, but I do know one thing: there has to be some scientific explanation for it."

Just before Chris was going to mouth off Aviva, Jimmy suddenly came between them and yelled, "_Stop it! _Fighting is _not_ going to solve anything! Vermilion has Skyfall right now, and God knows what she's doing to her right now!"

Koki agreed, "Jimmy's right! Calm down already! We'll talk this over later. We need to find Skyfall now. I'm sending the fly-cam out to look for her. Aviva, why don't you go create a serval power disc while Chris and Martin search for her on the Createrra?"

Chris and Aviva gave each other a bitter look before turning away. _What does Chris know?_ she thought cynically. _Where did he get the idea that magic had anything to do with this? That woman obviously has some sort of other bioengineering done on her. I'll have yet to find out what it is…_


	7. Zach Meets Vermilion (Informally)

**Chapter 7: Zach Meets Vermilion (Informally) **

"De-metamorphose!"

A gold light shone off of Vermilion again, and she was back to her normal, human self again.

After tying the bag with the serval onto her superbike, Vermilion popped on her helmet and revved the engine. Beads of sweat streaming down her face, she sped as fast as she could away from the scene. "That was a close one," she said to herself. "Glad my honey badger powers did the trick. Ain't that right, furball?"

She laughed evilly. On one hand, the skirmish put her at risk of capture…but on the other hand, it was _awesome! _Smiling, Vermilion said to herself again, "It's been a month since I had a fight. Glad I was able to get some more adrenaline into my system."

That was the best part of being evil. The thrill. The thrill of ensnaring an animal. The thrill of overpowering something or someone that could very well kill you. The thrill of escaping the authorities and always being on watch for them. The thrill of leaping off cliffs, of climbing up buildings, of sneaking into museums, of carefully outsmarting the world's best security systems.

Just a few more miles, and she'd be back at the spot where she hid her serval cages. It was under a bush right near a large watering hole. She hoped that nobody has discovered them yet.

Suddenly, she heard another engine behind her. In her rearview mirror, a tan Jeep was on her tail. _Oh, brilliant,_ she thought. _The rangers found me. _But then she noticed two familiar faces driving that Jeep.

"Well, look who's begging for some more!" she laughed. "I'll give 'em double the trouble this time!"

The water hole was just in the horizon. _Oh no!_ Vermilion thought. _If I stop and get my servals now, the Kratts will catch up to me. Even if they don't, I can't bring all four to market at the same time. Unless I kill them here…no, I can't! If the Kratts see me, they might testify against me in court. How can I slow them down _and_ get away?_

That was when she noticed something new in the waterhole. A giant, gray yacht stood in the water right next to a small dock, with a ramp leading up to the deck. An idea flashed into her head. She reached behind her back and pulled out an arrow from her quiver. _If I time it right, it just might work!_

She slowed down her bike and turned around. Fitting the arrow into the bow, she readied it and aimed for the front tire of the Jeep. After only a second, Vermilion released the arrow, letting it slice the air before driving itself into the black rubber. "Yes!" she yelled proudly. "Let's see how Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-don't-hurt-Bambi drive with only three tires!"

She immediately sped up and parked the bike right next to the dock, and she quickly untied the cat bag and slung it over her shoulder. Dashing up the ramp, she hoped whoever owned the boat wouldn't mind the unexpected guest.

"AAHHHHHHH!"

The brothers could hear the air from their left front tire wheeze out as the Createrra dangerously wobbled from side to side. Chris slammed on the brakes, but this made the car kick up a lot of dirt. It also caused him to lose control of the vehicle so that it swerved and rammed over several rocks, making the ride even more treacherous.

The Createrra skidded clear across the grass before colliding head-on into a boulder. The hood and the bumper were crushed by the impact, but the brothers were saved by the two airbags in the front. "Oh my goodness!" Chris gasped. "What just happened!?" Martin replied, "I think she just totaled our tire."

He and Chris ran out of the car to discover that they were right. Vermilion's aim was dead accurate, and the arrow was almost halfway into the wheel. Air was still hissing out of it. They noticed the smoke pluming from under the hood, and a small amount of shrapnel scattered the ground. The glass on the windshield was horribly cracked.

"Where's she going!?" Martin worried.

"She's headed for…that boat," Chris answered.

He and Martin stared. It was the greatest expensive-looking, sleek, gray yacht ever seen that only the best of money could buy.

They knew _exactly _who owned that boat.

"What's Zach doing here?" Martin asked bitterly.

Vermilion scanned the deck. For now, it was deserted. She made use of each precious moment to search for a hiding spot. After a minute or two, she spotted a table near the port side of the boat with a long, white tablecloth on it. Without thinking, she slipped under the cloth and stayed as close to the middle as possible. The last thing she wanted was for anybody to spy her tan combat boots.

The tranquilizer was starting to wear off. She could feel the serval slowly starting to move again. She hurriedly twisted the opening into a knot and hoped this cat wasn't smart enough to use its claws. And if it suffocates? Then _good!_ This whole ordeal might turn up for the better that way.

Suddenly, a door opened, and she heard footsteps. It was obviously the boat owner. All she had to do was stay quiet.

"I call it armadillo bowling!" Zach bragged into his phone. "It's just like regular bowling, except, well, with armadillos. It'll be your greatest investment!"

Pause.

"No, I don't care if they're alive or not! Listen, this _will_ be the next big thing. All you have to do is give me five thousand dollars, and I'll give you back your money before the month is out."

Suddenly, Zach heard a voice behind him. "Game over, Zach! You aren't getting away with those servals!"

Zach spun around. Running up the ramp onto his boat were none other than Chris and Martin Kratt. Zach gasped. Why are _they_ here!? How could they've found out about his plans!? He said into his phone, "Listen, I'll call you tomorrow. I have things to do." Turning it off, he faced the bothersome brothers.

"Well, whoop-de-doo, if it isn't the freaking Wild Rats."

Chris narrowed his eyes and snarled, "That's Wild _Kratts._ With a 'K.'"

Zach groaned and said, "So what do you two want now?"

"We want to know why you're with Vermilion Sokolov!"

Zach stared at them in surprise. "Beg pardon?" he asked.

Martin said, "We saw her get on your boat, Zach. You can't hide anything from us!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he argued, "what are you talking about!? The only ones on my boat are you, me, and my Zachbots―and you're not supposed to be on here in the first place, so you better start making sense before my Zachbots throw you overboard! I swear, if you two ever get between me and my plans ever again, you'll _pay _for it!"

Chris explained, "We're chasing this woman named Vermilion Sokolov. She's a career criminal and has been poaching some servals here in the Serengeti. She has red hair, green eyes, and lots of freckles on her face. She lied and said she was a ranger, so she was able to get away with a mother serval."

Zach snickered. "Sounds like this redhead is a pretty savvy liar." _Ha!_ he thought. _Those brothers are so brainless!_

Chris turned red with embarrassment. He hated admitting things like this to really nasty people like Zach. "We were chasing her, and she ran onto your boat. Do you know where she might be?"

"I have never heard of this woman, Chris, so there's no possible way I'd know her personally," Zach scoffed. "Now, if you two don't get off my boat, I'll…" He stopped midsentence and snickered again. He had just noticed the white bandages on Martin's cheek and the bruise on the side of his face.

"What happened to your face, Blue Boy?" he sneered before laughing at it some more.

Suddenly, a voice behind them loudly proclaimed:

"_I _happened to his face!"

All three of them spun around to see Vermilion leaning against the rail on the port side of the boat, smirking at the Kratts and tauntingly swinging the bag with the serval in front of them.

"Hand over the serval, Vermilion!" Martin yelled. "She belongs free and living in the wild!"

"Ha!" she jeered. "Not from the way you practically handed her over to me! Joanna Smith? A ranger? You two idiots fell for the oldest trick in the book! Ain't no way I'm letting _this_ outta my hands! AHAHAHAHAHA!"

At his first glimpse of her, Zach's irritation of the Wild Rats suddenly melted away. Right in front of him was somebody like that he's never seen before. At the sound of her laugh, Zach's ears unexpectedly became deaf to everything else around him. He only heard her voice soothe him like a harp. Her eyes were green, like his, except hers resembled two bright stars that outshone every other one in the sky. The sun reflected on her red hair to the point where it almost looked like fire.

Zach blinked. He realized that his heart was thumping harder than normal within his chest. Something soft and warm had glimmered inside of him. But he wasn't thinking about himself. He was staring right at this new woman with the gorgeous smile and the elegant voice.

Blushing, he became speechless. This woman had stolen an ugly varmint, but she also stole Zach's heart.

"You Kratt hippies can do _nothing _to save your little pussy cat!" she declared. "I pwned you once, and I can very well do it again!" She laughed maniacally.

Chris snarled, "You won't get away with this!"

"Watch me!"

She lifted her foot over the railing.

She saluted.

"_Do zvidániya_, motherfudgers!"

Before the Kratts could get to her, she leaped off the side of the boat in a brilliant somersault! She twirled in the air for a second before disappearing under the deck.

Chris, Martin, and Zach all ran to the railing and looked over the edge.

There was no sign of her.

Chris stared into the water, anxiously searching for a dark shape or some ripples in the water. It was no use. The water was completely still.

Martin asked, "Wha…where did she go!?"

Chris asked, "Did you hear a splash?"

Martin replied, "No! Did you!?"

"Is she in the water?"

"She can't be! I didn't hear her! Maybe she's underwater!"

Chris gasped, "She can't be underwater! There's no ripple, no dirt, no _splash!_ She couldn't have just…disappeared!"

Zach gazed at his own reflection in the still water. He was wondering the same thing. Where is she? Where could she have gone? But more importantly…_who was she?_

Zach spoke up. "Who was that…that…that _angel?_" he asked distantly.

Chris and Martin turned to him slowly and gave him a funny look. Wasn't he listening this whole time? Martin answered, "Uh…that was Vermilion Sokolov. She's a career criminal who's also a poacher. She captured three servals in less than an hour. She's wanted in several countries."

When Martin mentioned her name again, Zach's heart thumped a bit faster.

Zach rested his head in his hands, stared down at the water longingly, and smiled. "Vermilion," he repeated happily, letting the name flow off his tongue. "What a beautiful name…"

The brothers stared at him, dumbfounded, until it finally struck Chris. He teased, "Heyyyyyyyy, I know that look! You _like _her, don't you?"

Zach, not paying that much attention, responded, "Yeeeaaaa―wha? Uh, no. No! No!" He stood up and refuted, "No! Of course not! I don't like her at all!" He paused. Crossing his arms in indignation, he then added, "Well, um, I mean, I don't _like-_like her…"

Martin said playfully, "Then why are you blushing Zach?"

"I-um-I'm hot! Okay!?" Zach yelled.

Chris put his arm around Zach and replied, "Oh, come on, Zach. It's just us men here. You can tell us."

Martin added, "We saw the way you stared at her."

Zach pushed Chris away and yelled, "Zachbots! Drag these losers off my boat, or so help me..!"


	8. Serval Powers, Kratt Style

**Chapter 8: Serval Powers, Kratt Style**

"Aviva!" the brothers yelled, running into the _Tortuga._ She turned around and asked, "Where's the Createrra?"

Panting, Chris explained, "Vermilion blew out one of the tires with one of her arrows, and now it's totaled against a rock."

Martin added, "And Zach's there, too! He's never seen her before, though, so she probably didn't come here with him."

Aviva replied, "But she and Zach will form some sort of alliance. In order to get Skyfall back, we've got to act fast. Where did Vermilion go?"

"We don't know, actually," Chris panicked. "She jumped off the rail on Zach's deck, but we never heard or saw her in the water."

Aviva reasoned, "That must mean that she's still on Zach's boat. I bet they're talking right now on how to team up against us. I've already finished the serval power discs, so heads up!" She held two discs and tossed them to the brothers. Chris and Martin both caught them at the same time. Chris asked, "Where are the cubs?"

"Jimmy and Koki are looking after them right now," Aviva replied. "You can go see them for a little bit."

Just like Aviva said, all three of Skyfall's cubs were tackling each other playfully without a care in the world. When Chris approached the edge of the playpen, he couldn't help but wonder if these babies had any idea of what happened to their mother. He knew that servals were solitary cats after leaving the den, but until then, they were dependent on their mom.

Martin sighed. "I wonder if they know where their mom is."

Chris smiled at his brother. It wasn't unusual for them to think alike. He added, "Especially in the hands of this new villain."

"What do you think Vermilion'll do to her?" Jimmy asked, walking up to the Kratts with some dog toys for the cubs to play with.

Chris helped Jimmy with the toys and tossed them into the pen. Goldfinger immediately ignored his siblings and tackled the squeaky duck toy. The other two kept play-fighting before they decided to play tug-of-war with the rope. Chris answered, "You heard about what happened out in the savannah. Somehow, she gets creature powers from the animals she gets. I don't know how, but she does. I just hope she doesn't hurt poor Skyfall."

Martin then suddenly proclaimed, "Then there's no time to lose!" He reached down towards Goldfinger and petted his head. **"Activate serval powers!"**

A blue light emanated from his suit and consumed his entire body. Two large, oval ears zapped on top of his head. Blue fur with a dark blue servaline pattern of spots and splotches covered Martin. A long tail sprouted from behind him and waved in the air. Claws unsheathed from Martin's fingers, and his legs became longer and more muscular.

When Martin stopped glowing blue, his serval powers were complete. Chris immediately imitated his brother and acquired the same powers. Martin grinned and said, "Let's show Vermilion what happens when you screw with the Kratt brothers."

From the other side of the room, Koki picked up the phone and said, "I'm calling Interpol. It's time this woman was put behind bars again."

Aviva suddenly yelled, "Wait! I'm going with you two. I want to see Vermilion's creature powers first-hand. There _has_ to be some scientific explanation behind all this."

Chris rolled his eyes. "I told you, Aviva. She didn't have a suit or anything. Her powers come straight from her DNA mark. It glowed gold right before she transformed. There's something about that mark that must explain everything." He and Martin started heading for the door.

Aviva started following the Kratts and scoffed, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I still want to see this woman. See what she's like."

Chris blocked the door on his way out. "Aviva, do you know how dangerous this person is? Martin and I have this. You'll only put yourself in more danger."

"Me? Danger? What about you two? Against the world's most wanted woman and possibly an army of Zachbots? No, I'm coming with you."

Martin intervened, "We've faced Zachbots thousands of times before! We'll face them again."

Jimmy ran up behind Aviva and stated, "I'm coming, too. There's nothing much I can do, but I'll bring the first aid kit, just in case." Koki suddenly backed Aviva and agreed, "Same here. None of us want you two to get hurt. The authorities are already coming to Zach's yacht, so there's nothing else I can do here in the _Tortuga._"

Jimmy suddenly stood up. "I'm coming, too. You'll need me."

Chris asked, "How?"

Jimmy swiped out his iPhone and fiddled with the touchscreen before handing it to Martin. The two brothers studied the video from the camera lens and the large, blue circle at the bottom of the screen. They pointed the camera at Jimmy. The camera did the face-recognition sequence like any camera would use, except instead of just recognizing people's faces, the camera distinguished entire objects. The blue button had the phrase "ZAP IT!" in bold letters.

"That's an app I created specifically for teleportation," Jimmy explained proudly. "I point the camera at the object I want to teleport, and when I press the button, the teleporter here in the _Tortuga_ receives digital signals from the phone via Wi-Fi and brings the desired object straight to it. My creature pod and my phone also have a device-to-device network, so it'll get bars even in the middle of the Serengeti. If Vermilion wants Eavesdrop that hard, she's gonna have to run all the way to the _Tortuga_ to get her back."

The Kratt brothers stared at the crowd of three in front of them protesting against inaction. Aviva crossed her arms stubbornly and asked, "Well? Are we coming, or not?" Chris glanced at his brother and Martin at him. _I guess it would be better for everyone to come along,_ Chris thought. "What about the cubs?" he asked. Jimmy replied, "I just fed them now and replaced their water. We'll put the _Tortuga _on lockdown mode so nobody sneaks inside. They'll be just fine."

Martin shrugged. "Then I guess you all can come along."

Aviva ran to the garage. "I'm getting the hover bike! Martin and Chris can ride behind me while Koki and Jimmy get into the side car!" She couldn't help but smile as she revved the engine on the hover bike. _Alright, snitch,_ she thought. _Let's see what the secret to your creature powers are._


	9. Zach Meets Vermilion (Formally)

**Chapter 9: Zach Meets Vermilion (Formally)**

Zach slammed open the doors and ran into the room. "Zachbots!" he called. "Search every inch of this boat! We have a stowaway!"

Four Zachbots lined up in front of him and immediately changed their normal grippers into the buzz saws―the same ones they used back in the Borneo to chop down trees in search for black wood for Zach's side table.

Zach's heart stopped. He screamed fearfully, "NO, NO, NO, NO! No, don't you _dare _harm her! She's not bad! She's not bad at all! All I want is to talk to her, to see her again!"

One Zachbot beeped in inquiry. Zach replied, "Why, you ask?" He grabbed the Zachbot's arms and pulled it closer to him until they were face-to-face. "I'm in love!" he swooned. "That's why! Oh, Zachbot, you just _have _to meet her! She's the most wonderful, most beautiful, most amazing, most gorgeous woman alive!"

The Zachbot pulled its head down and pulled up a hologram of Donita Donata.

Suddenly disgusted, Zach made a face. "Donita!? I broke up with that floozy two years ago! Ugh, she was such a diva, and she always had that dim-witted servant of hers following us around. She was always complaining about her hair or her clothes or her nails. No, I'm over her."

It was true. He and Donita's first―and last―date was at Gourmand's place two years before to try out his cooked platy-cat eggs. (Platypussy? Platy-patter?) Of course, Martin Kratt invaded in a platy-cat suit, and before they knew it, all three villains were floating down the river in giant pots. Five minutes downriver, he and Donita started arguing. The fight lasted for nearly ten minutes before Gourmand broke it up. At that point, they had ended the relationship. (Dabio came to get them in Donita's red convertible. Unfortunately, Dabio had spent the entire night watching _The Dark Knight_ and somehow got the idea that Donita's car could do anything, like the Batmobile, such as turn into a boat. That was why the villains were nearly run over, and Donita had to call her insurance agent in the middle of the freaking wilderness.)

Partner in crime? Maybe. Girlfriend? Not on this planet.

Zach smiled and sighed happily, "But, no! Vermilion's different! She's a warrior queen! A huntress! A femme fatale! I've never felt this way for a girl before―not for Donita, not for anyone. I can't stop thinking about her. She makes my heart pound and my knees weak, and just the sound of her voice makes my day so much better. Oh, and she can do fancy tricks, too! She did this big flip off the side of my boa―"

Suddenly, a thud was heard above him. He looked up. It came from one of the large pipes in the ceiling. "What was that?" he asked.

Another creak was heard, and in less than a second, the pipe snapped. A woman with short, orange hair toppled from it and landed right in front of Zach. Zach screamed and realized exactly who was in front of him.

Vermilion groaned a bit in pain before looking up to him. She smiled and said cheerfully, "_Privyet!_"

Zach stared blankly in surprise at the floor before saying, "Uh, hi."

Vermilion got up. In her hand was a burlap sack. "Sorry to rain on your parade like this, dude. I had to get away from those Kratts before they could steal my prize. Oh, wait, we haven't formally met, have we?"

"Um…heh heh, no, we haven't," Zach replied, smiling. "Um, just curious, could you hear anything in that pipe up there? How did you get up there? Didn't you fall in the water?"

She answered, "Your pipe's pretty soundproof, actually."

Zach felt a wave of relief flood him. Imagine what would've happened if she had heard his entire talk!

She continued, "Oh, and I didn't land in the water. There are windows on the side of your boat. When you and the Kratts were looking into the waterhole, I was edging alongside the hull, out of your sight. Then, I kicked open one of your windows and snuck inside. I wasn't sure whether or not to meet you formally, so I decided to sneak out through the air vent. Your pipes aren't that strong, though. And after doing some thinking, I've decided that I can trust you."

She stood up and said, "Anyway, let me introduce myself. The name's Sokolov. Vermilion Sokolov. Poacher, fugitive, adventurer." She held out her hand and asked, "And you might be?"

Zach stared at her hand for a second. One Zachbot nudged him as if to say, _Go on. Shake her hand. Talk to her._ He breathed and replied, "Uh, Varmitech. Zach Varmitech. Um, inventor, billionaire…um…"

"Kratt hater?"

"Uh, yeah, actually! Wait, how did you know?"

"Dude, I heard your entire conversation with those hippies. Sounds like you have a history with those two," she said.

"'History' is an understatement," he scoffed. "I've known those two for twenty years now."

"Twenty years?"

"Yeah, we were neighbors as kids."

"Dude! I can't sit right with them for twenty _minutes!_" She walked closer to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. "_Nyet, nyet, _you must be really tough to survive those idiots for that long."

Zach's pulse quickened. _She's touching me!_ he thought excitedly. _She's actually _touching _me! Okay, Varmitech, just stay calm. Oh, God, I must look like a nervous wreck. Wait, does my breath smell? Does my hair look good?_

"You really think so?" he asked.

"I know so, Zach," she affirmed. She suddenly pulled away and gasped, "Ooh! Ooh! I _have_ to show you my serval!" She opened her sack slightly and pointed the opening towards him. "Go ahead," she said. "There's still some tranquilizer in its blood, so you should be fine." Zach cautiously inched closer to the bag. He peeked inside to see something with gold fur and black spots. Before he could make out the entire varmint, it swiped him in the face.

"_AAH!_"

Vermilion immediately moved the bag away and scolded, "You worthless furball! The heck did you do to him!? I swear, when I get my gun back―"

Zach started crying. "It just bit me! Ow, it hurts! _Save me!_"

Vermilion knotted the bag again and hurried to her new friend. "Come on," she said, patting his shoulder. "Let me see." Zach turned towards her. She studied the three scratch marks on his left cheek. They weren't that big, but they covered a good half of his face. A tear was streaming from his eye. She wiped it off with her thumb and rubbed Zach's shoulder. "Shhh…" she whispered. "It's okay. It's not a bite. It's a scratch. A cat's first defense is to scratch its enemy. Here, let me help you…"

She pulled out a small, white box from her adventure pack and opened it. She took out a travel-sized bottle of iodine and a cotton swab. Dipping it in the bottle, Vermilion gently placed the swab on Zach's scratches.

"_Ah!_" he yelped, holding back.

"Teehee. It's _iodine_, Zach," Vermilion snickered. "It's supposed to sting. Just be a little brave."

After only a minute, Zach had fresh bandages over his cuts. "Feel better?" Vermilion asked. Zach replied, "Yeah. Thanks. You're really good at first aid."

"Thanks. Comes in handy. Like when I scraped my knee escaping from Riker's Island."

"What's Riker's Island?"

"It's a prison in New York. I've also escaped from a state prison in Arizona and Franklin Correctional Institute in Florida."

"Wait, you went to _jail?_"

"_Da!_ I'm a wanted criminal!" Vermilion laughed in spite of herself.

"What for?" Zach asked.

"Poaching and overfishing, mostly," she replied.

"Have you ever heard of Gaston Gourmand? He's a poacher, like you, except he cooks what he catches."

"No. He rob banks?"

Zach paused. "…no. Wait, you rob banks!?"

Vermilion gave him a knowing smirk. "Fourteen, so far. I do museums, too. One time, I almost got into the National Reserve. _Almost._"

Zach gasped. "No way! Even Gourmand's not that hardcore! I've robbed a museum and the Kratt ship once, but I've never done it on such a large scale! Wow! Wait, Gourmand likes to cook his varmints, and I like to use them for my inventions."

"Oh, yeah!" she said. "These robots of yours look awesome."

"They're called Zachbots. Anyway, I was just wondering…what do _you_ do with your varmints?"

"What do _I _do?" she repeated. She showed her upper right arm to him. Zach studied the strange mark on it and asked, "Why do you have a DNA tattoo on your arm?"

"It's _not_ a tattoo. But it's not a birthmark, either."

"Okay, now I see it's natural, but―"

"Oh-ho-ho-ho, no Zach! It's not just natural. It's _supernatural_."

Before Vermilion could explain any further though, Chris Kratt's voice yelled from outside, "Vermilion, free Skyfall right now, or _else!_"


	10. Serval Powers, Sokolov Style

**Chapter 10: Serval Powers, Sokolov Style**

Chris and Martin stood defiantly on the shore as Vermilion, Zach, and two Zachbots appeared at the starboard side of the yacht. Just behind them were Aviva, Koki, and Jimmy. Leaning against the railing, Vermilion smirked and called in a vitriolic tone, "Well, well, look who joined the party."

"Cut the talk, Sokolov," Martin threatened. "There's nowhere for you to run."

Chris added, "Vermilion, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice."

Vermilion crossed her arms boldly and declared, "You two look mighty brave mouthing me off all the way down from the shore! Why don't you come up here and say 'f―k you' to my face!?" She laughed maniacally.

All the Wild Kratts gasped. They've never heard somebody swear like that! Zach turned to her in shock. Vermilion just said the f-word at the Kratt brothers! A thousand times he had thought of cursing at the Wild Rats like that, but all these years, he's never had the nerve to do it. Vermilion? She's only met them today, and she's already spewing trash at them! _How brave of her!_ Zach thought.

Aviva was alarmed. The audacity of this woman! None of the other villains―not even Zach!―has ever mouthed off like that before!

Martin yelled, "Fine! We'll come up there! With _serval powers!_" He and Chris bunched up their legs and leaped with all their might. Sailing through the air, they passed the shore and crossed the railing before landing on their feet on Zach's deck. Vermilion stepped back and took a good look at their creature power suits. Zach spat, "Oh, wonderful! Now they're the kitty Kratts! Why do we have to listen to anyone wearing stupid animal costumes!?"

Vermilion eyed the creature power suits from head to toe. Martin's was blue, and Chris' was green. Just like the serval, they had long, slender legs that enabled them to leap high into the air. Tall, oval ears poked out from their heads, and their claws glistened in the sunlight. She demanded, "You two mind telling me what the heck you're wearing?"

Chris proudly announced, "These are the Wild Kratts' creature power suits! Our friend, Aviva Corcovado, invented them! Every time we meet an awesome new creature, she studies it and programs computer discs according to the animal's DNA. We insert the discs into our suit and touch the animal. Then, we activate it to inherit all the amazing qualities of the animal kingdom. Aviva's made us serval power discs, so now we're going to beat you with the power of the serval!"

After Chris finished, Vermilion stared blankly at the brothers for a couple of seconds. Suddenly, she started laughing. Chris and Martin gazed at her in confusion. Chris asked, "Was it something I said?"

Vermilion kept laughing hysterically. "Creature power suits!" she giggled. After laughing some more, she asked, "How long did it take you all to build those?"

Aviva, summoning all her courage, called from the shore, "It took me eleven months, six days, and four hours!"

Vermilion chuckled, "Eleven months, Aviva!? It took you almost _a year_ to create those sorry-looking pajamas?" To Aviva's aversion, Vermilion hooted loudly.

Vermilion reached into the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out the syringe labeled _**SERVAL**_**.** She then took her burlap sack pulled out Skyfall, who was still under some amount of tranquilizer.

Suddenly, she stuck the needle into Skyfall's neck.

Skyfall whined in pain.

Martin gasped. "What are you doing!?"

Vermilion remained silent as dark red blood spurted into the syringe. The hypodermic quickly filled up with the rich, red liquid. She drew out the needle and threw Skyfall back into the sack.

She held up the syringe. A drop of blood trickled from the sharp end of the needle and onto Vermilion's fingers.

"I'll show y'all what _real_ creature powers look like."

Vermilion stuck the needle into the dot on her DNA mark. As Skyfall's blood drained into Vermilion's veins, the mark began to glow gold again. When the syringe was completely empty, Vermilion grinned from ear to ear.

She shouted, **"Vermilion metamorphosis!" **

The double-helix on her upper arm illuminated. The gold blaze of light spread up and down her arm rapidly and consumed her entire body. On her skin, the familiar pattern of black lines and blotches on golden fur formed. Her fingers and nails shape-shifted into claws unsheathed from part human, part serval paws. Whiskers sprouted from her face, and her nose blackened and became wet. Her teeth sharpened into pointed fangs. Her face began to grow black-and-gold fur, but her hair remained the same. Popping up from under the red curls, though, were two good-sized, oval-shaped ears that swiveled from side to side like a satellite dish. A tail unfurled out from behind her.

The gold light disappeared to reveal something that was half Vermilion, half Skyfall. She walked and talked like a human, but with the fur, the claws, and the teeth, the brothers felt like they were in front of a werewolf.

Or, should we say, a wereserval?

Aviva gaped at the powerful transformation. Never before had she seen anything like this with her own eyes (except, of course, with the brothers). _But…but…that's _impossible! she thought. _You can't just stick a needle of another animal's blood into your skin and turn into something like that! But she did! But how? _She mentally listed any possible cause for this scientific wonder. _Nanobots? Genetic engineering? Nuclear decay? _

Jimmy and Koki were speechless. Jimmy whispered, "Is…is she, like, a witch or something?"

Vermilion, hearing Jimmy's low voice with her new serval hearing powers, answered, "Not really, but I do know a certain witch to thank for this. Well, technically she was a voodoo priestess, but I guess some people consider them witches."

Aviva gasped and yelled, "Stop lying, snitch! There's no such thing as witches! Tell us how you _really_ got creature powers, Vermilion!"

Vermilion rolled her eyes and groaned, "Oh, don't tell me you're one of those 'I-only-believe-in-science' people. Don't get me wrong, Aviva, I use chemistry and physics all the time in my adventures, but please keep an open mind, _da?_"

Examining her claws casually, she continued, "_Nyet,_ if it wasn't for that deal I made with Mademoiselle Lafayette, you Wild Kratts would be pretty lucky. She cast this spectacular spell on me, and all I had to do was bring some unfortunate man's heart to her to keep my powers."

Vermilion thought nostalgically, _I remember it like it was yesterday…_


	11. How Vermilion Got Her Creature Powers

**Chapter 11: How Vermilion Got Her Creature Powers**

******FLASHBACK: TEN MONTHS BEFORE THE WILD KRATTS ENCOUNTER******

******This chapter's really really REALLY long, by the way. If you're too lazy to read the whole thing, just skip this one and read the summary in bold at the beginning of Chapter 12.******

The hot Angolan sun made sweat drip from Vermilion's forehead, but she was too focused on her target to care. Steadily pulling her arrow back on the bowstring, she aimed for a lean, fast wildcat that was currently resting in the grass.

Licking its paw in content, the cheetah was unaware of the huntress' presence. Vermilion inhaled deeply for just one minute when she stepped on a stiff piece of dry grass.

The cheetah stopped bathing and peered towards the sound. Vermilion clenched her teeth. _Crap._

Suddenly, the cheetah sprung to its feet and dashed into the horizon.

Vermilion hissed, "_Nyet!_" Just one millisecond after the cheetah began its escape, Vermilion tore through the grass to catch up to it. She jumped over rocks and kept her eye on the cheetah, but she was no match. The cheetah never even needed a head start. It was already ripping through the savannah grass at 70 mph while Vermilion panted running at 17 mph.

"Not giving up just yet!" she snarled while readying her bow again. Her first arrow neared the cheetah's heels, but the cat suddenly veered left. Quickly fitting another arrow, she shot in the cheetah's direction, and the cat barely missed it by a hair. Vermilion's legs were on fire, but she refused to quit. Another arrow was pulled on from the bowstring, but when it left the bow, it buried itself on the ground and let the cheetah disappear from sight.

Legs ablaze and a layer of sweat covering her face, Vermilion glared in vain as the cheetah slipped into the grass, never to be seen again. After standing for a minute, she chucked the bow to the ground in anger and swore angrily.

"This is the _third _time this has happened!" she grumbled. Just two weeks from then, Vermilion had entered a hunting contest with some fellow poachers and ended up embarrassing herself. What happened? She found a nice-looking peregrine falcon only for it to soar away to safety. Same thing happened when she came across a honey badger. After trying to shoot it with her arrows, it attacked her. She wrestled with it for five minutes straight before reluctantly quitting and tending to some nasty scratches on her arms.

"It ain't fair," she grumbled. "If I could run like that cheetah, I would've brought it down." The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Why do cheetahs get to be the fastest runners? Why do falcons get to be the highest fliers? If the human race was superior to every other animal on Earth, how come Vermilion was getting her butt kicked by all of them?

"I wish I could do all of that…" she sighed.

"The football's at the Mademoiselle's house!"

"Don't look for it! She'll turn you into a frog if you do!"

This was the conversation Vermilion heard between two dark-skinned boys from the village nearby. She was just sitting in the shade of her tent where she sold pelts, but nobody seemed to find her stall that interesting. Out of boredom, she listened further.

The first boy, who was about six years old, replied, "What do you mean? She can't do that!"

The other boy, about eight or nine years old, warned, "Yes, she can! And she _will!_ Lord knows what crazy, weird things go on in that hut of hers!"

Vermilion interrupted, "Who are you two talking about?"

They turned to her. The older boy answered, "Mademoiselle Lafayette. She lives in a tiny house at the edge of town just seven kilometers from here! She is scary! They say she is a witch who casts spells on other people!"

Vermilion rolled her eyes. "That so?"

The older boy got angry. "You think I am lying? The other day, a rich-looking man came over to her house and asked her to sell it to him. She got angry and said some weird hoodoo chant. Suddenly, the ground swallowed him up!"

"…and you saw this with your own eyes?"

"That is what Mr. Pocoyo said! He sells yams near that place!"

Vermilion stared blankly at him for a couple of seconds before standing up and saying, "Tell you what: I'll get your soccer ball back if you show me where this lady lives."

The younger one beamed happily, "You mean it!?"

The two village boys and the redheaded poacher stood in front of the strangest hut on the face of the Earth. Not only had mischievous weeds spread themselves throughout the small yard like wildfire but also thick vines had grasped the rough mud walls of the hut. A makeshift fence made from wooden spikes and rusty chicken wire surrounded the tiny dwelling, and within it, a handful of chickens skittered around and scratched the dirt. Hanging from the edge of the tin roof were glass vases on rope. Each was a different size and color, ranging from tiny red vials to quart-sized purple bottles, and in every one was a small candle―obviously, the owner of the shed used them as improvised lanterns.

"This place doesn't look that bad," Vermilion stated, crossing her arms indifferently.

The older boy shook his head. "Do not be fooled, lady! That woman is evil! Some people have actually gone to her to make spells for them!"

His younger brother added, "And now our football is in her yard!"

Vermilion listened intently to them both and murmured, "She does spells for other people, _da?_" She immediately recalled the moment when that cheetah outran her while she was trying to nap it and exactly what she thought afterwards. _Why do cheetahs get to be the fastest runners? Why do falcons get to be the highest fliers?_

Vermilion said aloud, "I wish I could do all of that…"

"Excuse me?" the older village boy asked.

Vermilion quickly answered, "Uh―nothing. Nothing. So, you said your ball was in there?"

The younger boy nodded, "Yes! Okasha and I were playing football when I accidentally kicked it into Mademoiselle Lafayette's yard!"

"Okasha?" she asked.

"I'm Okasha," the older boy replied. "This is my little brother, Murimbi. Our ball is over _there_."

Looking in the direction Okasha was pointing, Vermilion spied a scruffy-looking soccer ball sitting in front of a tiny house that she guessed was the chicken coop. Some of the hens pecked at it in curiosity before dashing off to gobble leftover corn seed in the grass. Vermilion stated, "Hey, that's not a football!"

Murimbi argued, "Are you blind, woman? Of course it's a football!"

"Uh-uh, that's a _soccer _ball! Haven't you boys ever seen a _real _football before?"

Okasha rolled his eyes and scoffed, "You stupid American. What you call a soccer ball is what we call a football. You told us you would get it if we brought you here!"

Vermilion held up her hands in exasperation and yelled, "Okay! Okay! Sheesh, I'll get your motherfudging _football!_"

With a huff, she stepped into the accursed yard. Her combat boots crunched over gravel and chicken feed as she strolled bravely through the weed-infested yard. The chickens clucked in surprise as the tall stranger wandered straight through them and squabbled loudly away, flapping their wings wildly. An eerie feeling began to pervade Vermilion. _Those chickens are kind of loud,_ she thought warily. _In hindsight, I should've taken a more stealth-like approach. Hope I didn't wake up this Lafayette lady…_

But as she crept closer to the muddy soccer ball, her doubt began to fade away. The chickens weren't making too much noise anymore, and there didn't seem to be any activity within the hut. As a matter of fact, the town was about seven miles from where they were, so Okasha and Murimbi seemed to be the only living souls around, who were both watching intently from the fence. Bending down to scoop up the scruffy black-and-white checkered ball, she tossed it up slightly before casually turning back to the gate.

Until, of course, the weeds closest to her suddenly sprang up and tangled around her left leg like a dozen green pythons.

"Huh?―ah!―_AHHHHHH!_" Vermilion shrieked. The boys screamed in terror. The rampant dandelions near Vermilion had turned into rampant, thick vines that gripped on her leg with immense strength, rendering her leg completely immobile. She tried with all her might to kick at the leafy trap, but the weeds held her back.

Barely suppressing all panic, Vermilion hurled the soccer ball at the boys. It sailed over the fence into Okasha's arms, but the two boys were more focused on her. "IT'S MADEMOISELLE LAFAYETTE!" Murimbi screamed in horror. "SHE'S MAKING THE GROUND SWALLOW YOU UP!"

"Thanks for the play-by-play, kid!" Vermilion yelled as she reached into a socket on her belt. Drawing out her trusty bowie knife, she quickly grabbed one of the thick weed-vines and began to cut. After a second of sawing her dagger through the terrifying plant, the stem snapped―only for two more enormous vines to immediately sprout from right below her and tightly entangle her wrist, causing her to lose her grip on the bowie knife.

Vermilion watched helplessly as her only good weapon clattered onto the gravel. For a brief second, she thought of whipping out her tranq pistol from the holster right next to where the knife was, but she never shot with her left hand before. _Always a first time for everything,_ she reasoned, but before she could reach it, the second vine rapidly twined around her entire left arm. Vermilion hauled herself forward and thrashed her limbs with all her force―but the vines proved a worthy foe. She kicked the vines violently with her right foot only for yet _another _creeper to shoot up and curl around her ankle.

Vermilion's pulse beat loudly in her ears. The vines weren't just a trap. Pins and needles were already tingling in her limbs. She could feel her fingers grow colder and colder as the giant plants eventually cut off all blood flow.

"Who be she who be so blind to de fence I 'ave carefully crafted?"

Panting, Vermilion turned to the entrance of the shanty where there now stood a freshly withering yet stocky woman. Somewhat obscured by the shadow a nearby tree casted on her body and by the vibrantly beaded shawl curled around her shoulders, she strode onto the gravel with nothing on her feet except for a dozen bracelets on each ankle smeared with a rainbow of blacks, reds, whites, and yellows. Her antelope-skin dress expressed both crudeness and craftsmanship with both its ragged, undefined hemline and its meticulous beadwork. Her skin was so dark, it was almost completely black which made the multitude of gold, silver, and beaded necklaces around her neck stand out brilliantly. The dreads cascading from her head―which were adorned with at least seven feathers, each from different birds―were blacker than the night sky, but one could notice the gray roots peeking from her scalp.

Edging closer and closer to Vermilion, the frigidity of her tormenter's heart nearly dropped the temperature of the entire savannah, and her cat-like eyes―one blue, one gray―pierced deeply into Vermilion's soul. Vermilion used the strength she had left to maintain a straight face. She dared herself not to quiver nor scream.

"Tell me, woman," crooned the old witch in her thick African accent, just an inch from Vermilion's face. "Did not your mama tell you never to sneak into a lion's den?"

"She also told me never to trap people with giant vines," Vermilion spat.

"No she did not," grinned the shrew. "If she ever did, you be not dare to hear her."

All comebacks that Vermilion had up her sleeve disappeared in thin air and was replaced by shock. "W-w-what are you saying, snitch!? I was with my mother!" she snarled.

Mademoiselle Lafayette chuckled and calmly replied, "Your _real_ mama not 'ere. Not anyw'ere in your life."

Vermilion's heart stopped. _How did she know?_ she panicked silently. _No, she's _wrong! _Mikhail and Katarina loved me! They told me so at the orphanage all those years ago! They're real, too! Witch, you don't know the _half_ of it!_

"WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME, YOU CRAZY FLIBBERTIGIBBET!?" Vermilion screeched at the top of her lungs. Suddenly, the vines twisted around so fast, Vermilion rotated a full 360 degrees five times in a row before they untwisted rapidly and let her go―causing her to topple through the air over the fence and land flat on her chest. The witch called out, "Next time you decide to wander into de lion's den, make sure you have de claws to fight off de lions."

Vermilion grunted loudly in pain. Okasha and Murimbi had run for their lives a long time ago. She tried to lift herself off the ground, but blood had not fully circulated into her arms yet. Billions of pins and needles stabbed her limbs painfully, and more pain throbbed from Vermilion's nose. She realized that some drops of blood gushed out from her left nostril, and a few scrapes from hitting the ground stung her cheeks and jaw. She glared to her left towards the house only to see that the Mademoiselle had disappeared.

Hours passed. Setting past the horizon, the sun emitted a magenta glow on the darkening sky and caused a long shadow to stretch from the Mademoiselle's hut.

Vermilion glowered at the door of the wraithlike cottage. She had left a while ago but decided to return after thinking for a while. _How did she know?_ she pondered while biting her lip. _How did she know I've never met my real parents before? _The strange lady's last words echoed in her mind:

_**Next time you decide to wander into de lion's den, make sure you have de claws to fight off de lions.**_

Vermilion repeated that phrase internally and asked herself, "Did she know what she was talking about?" She remembered the wish she had―to run like a cheetah, to soar like a falcon. She also knew that those village boys weren't telling tall tales about the Mademoiselle. She experienced first-hand how powerful her hoodoo spells were. So when Mademoiselle Lafayette told her about having lion's claws, was it just another mind game…

…or was it an offer?

Vermilion's feet started edging towards the gate. Something inside kept nagging her not to, but Vermilion ignored it with her green eyes placed exclusively on the hut. With every foot she entered deeper into the yard, with every foot she entered closer to the door, her heart thumped louder. Approaching the doorstep, Vermilion heard her pulse resonating in her ears. _No,_ she began to doubt. _I can't do this. No, I have to. I ain't scared of nothing. I'm _Vermilion Sokolov_, for God's sake!_

She knocked on the door with her left hand.

She held her breath.

"Hello?" she called.

With her right hand, she reached behind for her arrows. She didn't bring her bow and arrow when she visited the house with Okasha and Murimbi because she thought she didn't need to. This time, she was much better prepared. Not only did she have a full quiver and her favorite Mongolian bow with her but also a loaded tranq gun and a CO2 knife. No more Miss Nice Girl.

"Hello?" she called again.

"Why, come in, my little spitfire," cooed a voice from within.

The door slowly slid open, inviting Vermilion into the obscure, inexplicable world of the Mademoiselle's home. As soon as she stepped inside, the door slammed behind her. Vermilion gulped. There was no turning back now.

Walking down the small hallway towards the witch's voice, Vermilion studied her surroundings. Hanging from the ceiling by individual pieces of twine were carved wooden faces that expressed a myriad of emotions ranging from sorrow to fury to hysteria. Also hanging from the ceiling by its feet was a dead chicken, and along the walls of the entryway were baskets full of foul-smelling herbs and glasses filled with odd-colored liquid.

On one small table was a collection of small dolls. When Vermilion looked more closely at the pile, she discovered needles sticking out from some of the dolls. One appeared to be partially burnt, and another was soaking wet. Three or four had their throats slashed, and one was covered in ants.

"Don't mind dose," the voodoo woman noted behind Vermilion. "Dose be ones who I've doomed before." Vermilion shuddered slightly at that comment. Vermilion was definitely wanted by the authorities for several accounts of murder, but for some reason, this type of murder creeped her out a bit.

Vermilion turned to the Mademoiselle. In front of the voodoo witch was a huge clay pot with a fire boiling the cloudy liquid within it. More herbs and colored liquid surrounded Mademoiselle Lafayette, so she was obviously preparing for this. No windows were built in the main room, but four candles flickered on clay dishes where the four corners of the floor would be had this not been a round room.

"You come a leetle late," the Mademoiselle noted. "Hard time deciding?"

"Do you really know what I'm here for?" Vermilion challenged.

The priestess chuckled and grinned, her pearly teeth gleaming in the candlelight. She answered, "De Mademoiselle is all-knowing, chald. De spirits tell me all about your past, your thoughts, and your deepest desires. You 'ave de cunning of de fox, de lurk of de scorpion, and de ferocity of de honey badger, Vermilion Sokolov…"

Before she finished her sentence, she snapped both her fingers―and the liquid in the large pot suddenly turned green and three colossal, vicious black mambas popped out, baring their fangs and hissing violently at the huntress. Mademoiselle Lafayette's voice dropped to an ominously low tone when she warned, "…but if you even dink of tricking me, I shall see to it my snakes don't starve."

Vermilion kept her face as steady as she possibly could, but deep inside, her heart desperately tried to escape from her chest. She also had to suppress the impulse to wring the snakes' necks, for she knew that this was _not_ the time to fight.

At the Mademoiselle's snap of the fingers, the large pot sucked up the mambas, and the liquid returned to its cloudy color. "Just a fair warning," the hoodoo lady finished.

"What can you do for me?" Vermilion demanded.

"It's not a hard spell," the witch asked. "Just a variation of de other shape-shifting spells I 'ave. I just need two dings from you."

Vermilion's excitement sparked. "Tell me!" she urged. "I'll do anything!"

The witch held up her index finger. "First," she explained, "I need your blood. For de potion. Not too much, but it must be much more dan a drop. It is _your_ blood you shall be altering, you know. So it's de most essential ingredient."

Vermilion stared down into the bubbling solution. She's had countless adventures that involved worse injuries than getting cut, but the thought of cutting herself actually sounding quite painful. She slowly reached for her CO2 dagger with her right hand and held up her left hand. _It's easy, _she hesitantly convinced herself. _You don't even need the button that releases the CO__2__ at the end. Just swipe the blade across your hand…_

She touched the tip to her skin, shut her eyes, and―heart violently racing―swept the knife through with one, swift motion. Gritting her teeth, she refused to look at the injury. She felt the Mademoiselle's cold hands takes hers and hold it over the pot, gently squeezing the cut to squeeze all the bodily fluids out. After what seemed like a long time, she felt the Mademoiselle wrap some cotton cloth around the wound.

The second she set her eyes on the cloth, the stinging began. Vermilion clenched her hand as the Mademoiselle continued, "Now dat _dat_ is done, we move on to de next condition: before I will continue dis spell, you must draw somebody else's blood for me."

"Beg pardon?"

"I told you I knew all your secrets, Vermilion. De police are chasing you, and dey have $95,000,000 over your head. You have taken bribes to kill others, and you are responsible for de deaths of 256 souls."

Vermilion was taken aback. She was right. Vermilion kept a list of not only the people she had killed but the people she _wanted _to kill, too. Said list had exactly 256 victims. She not only killed people for the heck of it but sometimes for money, too. Within criminal society, she was revered as one of the world's greatest hitmen―maybe even _the_ world's greatest hitwoman. She was one among the three known hired gunmen who have never been caught (that is, she never got caught for _bribed_ homicide. Now, she's been arrested before for _not-bribed_ homicide, but she escaped jail each time.)

Vermilion finally understood. "Is that what you wanted this whole time? A hit?"

Mademoiselle Lafayette smiled and replied, "Yes, but I've no money to give you. But I got plenty of magic to make all your dreams come true, Miss Sokolov. Wouldn't dat be worth more dan any amount of money in de world?"

Vermilion couldn't help grinning. She loved a good hit. Especially when the price was the creature powers she'd always dreamed of. She raised an eyebrow and cooed smoothly, "I wonder who the lucky man is?"

"Lucky, indeed!" Lafayette cackled. With the wave of her hand, a cloud of green smoke swirled up from the bubbling liquid and revealed an image of a well-dressed man. His suit crisp and his posture full of confidence, the tall, light-skinned man with gray hair smiled out of a large-paned window ordained with gold-embroidered curtains. His silver tie almost matched his gray eyes, and on his clean-shaven chin was a slight smile.

Before Vermilion could ask, Mademoiselle Lafayette explained, "Dis is Mr. Gerald Warrenson, de twit who dared to ignore the fence I built and knocked on my door. Dis man come up to me and say he want to put a well here for his leetle oil company. I told him no, but he say I can't do nothing because all de papers are signed. He say I must leave this piece of earth in twenty-four hours. I say _he_ must leave this Earth in twenty-four hours."

Vermilion recognized her next victim. Gerald Warrenson was the C.E.O. of Petrology, a gas company that was bigger than Shell and ExxonMobil combined. He was named one of the richest men on Earth and he owned not only oil fields in Africa but also a handful of vacation houses.

The Mademoiselle continued, "I will cast a spell on you, Miss Sokolov, dat will give you what you have always wanted: creature powers. All you will need is one drop of animal blood in your veins, and you will have the talents of the animal that you possess. However, to keep your creature powers, you must bring me the heart of Mr. Warrenson by _exactly_ dis time tomorrow."

Vermilion checked her watch. It said 11:34 P.M. She thought uncertainly, _I've never done a hit in such a short time span!_ But she immediately shoved that thought away from herself. _No!_ she thought. _This is my only chance to run like a cheetah and soar like an eagle. I'll do whatever it takes. _

The priestess continued, "If you bring me his heart by dis time tomorrow, you get to keep your creature powers." As she explained, her face started to darken, and the tone of her voice turned solemn and almost deadly. "If you _don't_, I will not only strip you of your powers but also place you in bondage as my servant―for dis life _and_ de next. Dat means when I die, you will die also, and wherever I go in the afterlife, you will follow. You will be in my command forever. _Your soul will belong to me for all eternity._"

More fear creeped its way out from the back of Vermilion's mind, but as much as the idea of eternal bondage made her shudder, she kept refusing to chicken out this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. _I absolutely must have creature powers, _she repeated to herself. _I must have creature powers. I _must_ have creature powers!_

Lafayette reached out her hand over the boiling liquid and asked, "So, do we have a deal?"

Vermilion stared at the hand for what seemed like decades. She breathed in and out slowly, desperately subduing all anxiety from this potentially fatal choice. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears again, and that was when she realized that she had never been this scared before. _What if I fail? _she began to worry. _What if I end up being this woman's slave? What if all that I have ever dreamed of slips away from my fingers? _

As a final act of bravery, Vermilion scowled and boldly thought, _No! All my life, I've been cheated on by little four-legged furballs, feathered bird-brains, and finned fish-faces. I'm motherfreaking Vermilion Sokolov! I've ran away from policemen, armies, and mercenaries! I drive my bike at 95 mph in a 75 zone! I swing though trees above scorpions! I've dived from the tallest cliffs! And if this spell will make me, the most dangerous woman on Earth, even more dangerous, you bet your money I'm taking it!_

With passionate courage, Vermilion took the Mademoiselle's hand and shook it firmly.

"Deal."

Suddenly, a blinding light from the large pot filled the room, and Mademoiselle Lafayette began to chant in a foreign language. As she chanted, gold-colored smoke plumed up from the pot and circled around Vermilion. Vermilion backed away from it, but the smoke seemed to know where she was and followed her wherever she stepped. The gold smoke started to spiral all around her like a tornado, and Vermilion started to feel a burning sensation in her veins. Suddenly, the smoke went through her, and her body started to glow. The intense heat on her skin blazed hotter by the second, and Vermilion started groaning in pain. Suddenly, a thousand jolts of electricity seared down her spine and through her body. She yelled in agony as she her limbs shook violently from the shock. She noticed that while most of her skin stopped burning, her upper right arm still felt as if it was on fire.

_What kind of spell is this!? _she thought, horrified.

When the smoke disappeared, a smaller bolt of electricity was felt through her, and Vermilion fell to the dirt floor. Her hands arms and legs were still shaking, and in vain, Vermilion tried to stand up. Her right upper arm still felt extremely hot, and Vermilion screamed again at the pain. After trying to stand up in vain three times, she finally got on her feet and stumbled toward the door.

Mademoiselle Lafayette yelled after her, "Don't come back without his heart!"

There was no word Vermilion could think of to describe the pain on her upper right arm. She might as well paint it with lava and hydrochloric acid, and it _still_ would've hurt less. Gritting her teeth, she considered herself lucky to have even walked all the way to her parked motorcycle, only to collapse in complete exhaustion and fall into a deep sleep.

When she woke up, she discovered a small flock of vultures circling over her. Standing up, she discovered that strength had returned to her legs, but her arm was still burning slightly. The sun made it worse. Her skin was already starting to tan, and the heat was more intense on her arm.

"Why does it burn so much, anyway?" she groaned. She whipped out her bowie knife and angled it to see her reflection on the blade. Then, tilting it slowly, she studied her new mark.

Vermilion recognized it. It was part of a double helix, a piece of DNA. A small dot was in the middle where the dioxiribose "ladder rung" was supposed to be. (Look it up.) It was dark brown compared to the rest of her peach skin, almost making it look like a tattoo. Vermilion noted, "Not bad."

Suddenly, she panicked. She looked at the sun. It was almost right above her! She looked at her watch. It read 11:46 a.m.

"How did I sleep more than _twelve hours!?_" she screamed frantically before scurrying to her bike.

As she revved the engine, she tried to think of any useful data off the top of her head.

"I know where Warrenson's mansion is," she planned. "It's only a couple miles from here. I think I passed it a couple times. If he's there, I'll just sneak into his big house and slit his throat. No, too messy. Wait, I have to get his head anyway, so why not start right off the bat? Alright, I'll do that. I'll just take my knife with me. Oh, and a clean cotton cloth. Remember, an assassin never leaves a mess behind."

Zooming down the savannah, she said suddenly, "What if he's _not_ there?" After a second, though, she assured, "No, if he was back in England or Saudi Arabia or Yemen or something, the Mademoiselle would give me a lot more time. She _knows_ he's here."

Only fifteen minutes had passed before she reached the looming iron gates at the mansion entrance. A few hundred feet in the distance stood the three-story manor with the enormous fountain in front of it. _No doubt about it,_ Vermilion thought. _Nobody in this part of Africa can afford something that huge._

"Hold it!" ordered a security guard in a black suit from the small tollbooth next to the gates. He opened his door and started pacing towards Vermilion. She tried not to tense up or look nervous.

She thought up several choices in her head. _If this guy finds out I'm wanted in several countries, I'll be done for! I could mount my bike and floor it, but that would only create a chase. Last thing I need is lots of attention._ The guard was only a few steps away from her when she thought, _Maybe I should just ask him to see Mr. Warrenson. No, he probably has a guest list or something, and why would some random lady with raggy clothes and a loud bike want to see him? Think, Sokolov, think!_

Kyle usually didn't have much to do on Mondays because no trouble ever came near the Warrenson manor on those days. Today, though, he spotted a strange woman loitering in front of the gates. When he approached her, she asked, "Is there a mister…uh, Gerald that lives here?"

Kyle, who was employed for more than ten years now as Mr. Warrenson's front security guard, had confronted lots of troublemakers at the front. Some were kids from the nearby village who just wanted to play some soccer while some were protestors who loathed the oil mogul. For some reason, though, this woman struck Kyle as…different. Her short red hair that barely grazed her shoulders, and she sported some sort of Army getup that consisted of desert camo pants, a white sleeveless shirt, and a pair of tan combat boots.

Kyle studied her some more. He had the strange feeling that he'd seen her somewhere…but where?

He answered, "Yes ma'am, this is the residence of Gerald Warrenson. I'm sorry, but we can't have anybody near the residence today."

"Oh, why not?" she asked.

"Mr. Warrenson is preparing some sort of dinner party for tonight. From what I hear, all the big shots are invited―Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, Tony Stark―you name it! You need something?"

"There's a package I have for Mr. Warrenson," the woman replied. "Priority mail."

Kyle looked over her outfit again and asked, "You're a mail carrier?"

She giggled and sighed, "I know, I know. I just got the job yesterday, and my uniform won't be ready until tomorrow."

An uneasy feeling lingered in Kyle. "What's your name, ma'am?"

"Susan," the woman answered.

Kyle pointed to Susan's red motorcycle near the end of the driveway. "You're carrying the mail on _that?_"

"Oh, I use my bike for short distances. Post office isn't that far from here, y'know."

"So where's the package?"

"What do you mean? It's right―there?" Susan stared at her motorcycle for a bit before smacking her forehead and swearing.

Kyle asked, "What's the matter?"

Susan groaned, "Darnnit, not _again!_ Why do I keep doing this!?" She clearly forgot the package, and now she looked like she was about to cry.

"Ma'am, calm down!" he quickly comforted. "Hey, we all make mistakes sometimes. Don't worry. I'll be here all night."

"Excuse me?" Susan sniffled.

"I said I'll be here all night. Just tell your boss that you'll bring it later. Does Mr. Warrenson need it now?"

"I don't think so," she replied, wiping off a small tear. "It didn't say 'express mail' on it."

"Well, listen, Susan," the security guard told her, "Mr. Warrenson will be holding his party tonight at eight o'clock, so if you want him to see it soon, I suggest you bring it sometime soon before then. If you can't, you can just bring it tomorrow."

Susan's eyes began to clear up, and she gave Kyle a meek smile. "Thank you, sir," she said softly. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then."

As she mounted her bike, Kyle waved at her and called back, "No problem, Susan! Keep up the good work!"

Vermilion snickered as she drove off. "Ha! That little Susan act worked perfectly! Who's the greatest liar in the world? HA HA! Well, Gerald Warrenson, I've got some express mail for you: _your death!_"

She laughed evilly and revved the engine loudly.

It was only a minute after 8:30 p.m. Surrounding the mansion was a tall cement wall that Vermilion climbed over easily. She double-checked that she had her equipment: a burlap sack, a bowie knife, two loaded pistols (one with bullets and one with tranqs), a can of hair spray, and four empty syringes.

The syringes were definitely an interesting buy. Vermilion remembered the words of the Mademoiselle:_ All you need is one drop of animal blood, and you'll have your creature powers._ Vermilion had thought the statement over and wondered exactly _how_ she'd get a drop of animal blood. At first, she thought of using her knife, but immediately saw how bad of an idea it was to use such a messy and damaging method. She needed something clean, quick, and efficient to insert animal DNA into her bloodstream. That was when she noticed a man in the nearby outdoor market selling about thirty hypodermic needles. Before he sold them to her, Vermilion had persuaded the man to soak the needles in bleach, soap, and boiling water. (because, y'know, this is Africa, and _there is such a thing as HIV._)

Vermilion ran from bush to bush on the dark lawn and was wary not to trip over the sprinklers. She was only a couple feet from the south side of the manor when she spotted a security camera _almost_ hidden well enough high in the corner. After immediately hiding behind another bush, Vermilion peered around the corner to plan her next route.

The security camera pointed roughly in her direction, and she also noticed a light above the door she was heading for. On the door was a small doggie door―which turned out to be a kitty door because a housecat with fur the same orange color as Vermilion's hair pranced out. As the cat pawed outside, the door light automatically flashed on and turned off after a few seconds, and when the cat strolled past it again, it lit up the whole entryway again.

_Crap!_ Vermilion thought. _A motion sensor!_ She studied the kitty door, too. _No way I'll fit in _that_ thing. There's gotta be a way to get in…_ She was tempted to slip through the large windows right next to door, but not only was the pathway in full view of the camera but also a large group of formally-dressed partiers were sipping champagne and laughing on the other side. _Way to walk straight into a crowd, Sokolov,_ she thought in vain.

A rustle in the bush made Vermilion gasp in panic. She spun around to see the fat orange cat stare at her wide-eyed. "Shoo!" Vermilion hissed quietly.

Suddenly, an idea popped into her head.

"Actually, stay right there…"

With a quick swipe of the hand, Vermilion grabbed the snarling cat and squeezed it close to her. The furball flailed its arms and almost dug his claws into her left arm, but Vermilion managed to stick one of her needles into his flank. Dark red liquid poured into the syringe, and she pulled it out while tossing the cat aside. The enraged cat hissed at her and rocketed towards the cat door.

Vermilion stared at the needle for a second. "Okay, I got blood…now what?"

Wait, wasn't there a small dot in the middle of the double-helix mark?

Vermilion pointed the needle to the mark. Shutting her eyes, she stuck it in and pressed hard on the small plunger.

_Here goes nothing!_

She slipped the needle out and waited. And waited. And waited. _Maybe the Mademoiselle isn't giving me my powers until I finish the job. No, maybe there's something I still have to do. Let's see, I injected the DNA, so I just need to do, like, some sort of move or say some phrase? _

On the spot, Vermilion whispered, "Vermilion metamorphosis." She snickered after saying that, thinking it was kind of a corny phrase―

―until her mark started glowing.

A bright gold light emanated from her mark, and it started to spread down her arm and up her shoulder. Frightened that she might get discovered, Vermilion dashed back up the tall fence and leaned on the outer side. She stared at her hands. They were both gold, now, and the light extended down her torso and into her legs. She felt the warm and tingly glow creep past her face as her hands became even warmer. "What's happening to me!?" she panicked.

Suddenly, a sharp feeling trailed down her spine as if a volt of electricity had zapped through it. The fizziness exploded in her abdomen and swirled back up her torso. Her ears fizzed more at some point, and then her fingertips. Vermilion closed her eyes and realized the electrical feeling actually felt pretty good.

When the tingling and electricity dissipated, she opened her eyes.

Her hands were now covered with fur the same orange-striped pattern as that of the cat's. Her fingers were still there, but her nails looked slightly different. When Vermilion looked more closely at them, she realized she could unsheathe them into long, sharp claws. Her entire arm was covered in orange fur, and when she touched her head, she felt two pointy ears replacing her old, human ones. She touched her face and discovered a tiny, wet nose and more than a dozen sensitive whiskers. Something wriggled behind her. She spun around to realize it was a puffy orange tail with a white tip _exactly_ like the cat's.

Vermilion inhaled and exhaled as slowly as she could. She didn't know what was bubbling in her that moment: excitement? Shock? Astonishment? Horror? Ecstasy? All these at once? She didn't know why, but she started laughing. "I can't believe this!" she whispered breathlessly. "I did it! I have…creature powers!" She giggled ecstatically and started to tear up when she heard voices.

"I heard it from over here!"

"No, that bright light was over there!"

Vermilion jumped towards the top of the fence and immediately realized it was a mistake. The two men she heard (probably guards) pointed a flashlight in her direction just as she skittered away.

"I saw it!" the one with the gruffer voice yelled. "Wait, it has a tail. An orange one."

The other man sighed and replied, "It's the boss' cat. I think his name is, like, Butterball or something. Causing a ruckus all over the place again."

Apparently, it was too dark for the men to see that not only was the boss' cat bigger than usual but also _wearing clothes._

Vermilion decided that if she wanted to get inside, she'd have to convince the guards she wasn't a problem. She sat on the wall and started licking her paw. The second man said, "He's over there!"

Just as his flashlight came to her, Vermilion meowed and bolted down from the wall, straight across the yard, and clear into the mansion in less than five seconds. The gruff man called, "Hey! Butterball! Git over here, you darn cat!"

As soon as she went into the house, she immediately noticed a small closet near her to disappear into. As she shut the door, she listened carefully to see if any guests had noticed her. Thankfully, all she heard was some playful banter and laughter, so she sighed in relief. Her watch read 9:04 p.m.

_What!? That whole ordeal took an entire half hour!? _Vermilion cursed herself for such foolishness and quickly planned her next course of action. The closet she hid out in was not that big, but it stank of bleach, ammonia, fresh cleaning rags, and Lemon Pledge. With her new nose, Vermilion smelled the old scents of various maids and janitors that had stepped into the closet before, and she even sniffed out their old emotions―fatigue from a long day's work, anxiety over whether the children would get food tomorrow, contempt of Mr. Warrenson's affluence compared to the workers' scarcity of money. _Dang, _Vermilion thought, _this is a good nose._

The room was dark, but enough light peeked in from the crack under the door for Vermilion to see clearly. With just that little bit of light, the enhanced night vision of the cat enabled her to pinpoint every detail of the cleaning products, equipment, and metal cabinets in the closet.

Suddenly, she heard something crash outside. Some guests gasped in shock and one of them apologized for something. The other man―the same man with the gruff voice outside―forgave him and said, "I'll have it cleaned up, don't' worry." That was when he yelled harshly:

"ODALA! GET YOUR $$ OVER HERE! DON'T YOU SEE THERE'S A MESS!?"

Vermilion nearly jumped at the sound of Gruff Voice's command heard a woman reply, "Yes, sir."

"Why are you standing here!? This mess isn't gonna clean up ITSELF! Get the mop and broom! Are you deaf!?"

Odala answered meekly, "Yes, Mr. Johannes. Right away."

Vermilion not only could smell Odala walking towards the closet but hear her to―not in the same way she would've heard her with human ears, though. With human ears, she would've just heard the footsteps come closer, and even then, Vermilion would have to figure out the sound over the noise of the partiers. With cat ears, she was able to completely hear past the party and listen to Odala's feet pitter-patter and shuffle against the tile floor.

She jumped up the nearest cabinet to the very top and crawled towards the wall to stay out of Odala's sight. She studied the lady in the light blue maid's dress who walked in the closet. From her dark skin, she was obviously a local, somebody who lived in a nearby village. Her posture was slightly stooped, and a dozen rebellious stands of hair sprung out from the bun tied at the back of her head. Noticing some of the wrinkles and gray hairs, Vermilion first thought she was in her late thirties or early forties, but when she sniffed her from where she was, it turned out she was actually thirty-two. She also smelled pure exhaustion and stress ooze from the poor woman. Vermilion's nose noticed the last meal Odala had: a measly bowl of rice and yams about five hours ago. A simple gold ring presented itself on her left hand, and Vermilion smelled her again and learned that she had given birth six times.

Odala sighed as she breathlessly gathered the broom, dustpan, and mop. One of the bottles of cleaner that she had to use was inside a sealed box, so Odala slipped out a simple, black box cutter and slit through the tape. Vermilion watched her slip it back into the side pocket on her blue dress before a tall, blonde man stormed in. At first, Vermilion didn't recognize him, but when he spoke, she realized that he was Gruff Voice―or, Mr. Johannes.

Mr. Johannes' meaty hand swiped down like an eagle's talons on Odala's hair and fiercely yanked her head back. Odala gave a high-pitched yelp before steadying herself. Vermilion noticed the maid's hands quivering violently in fear. Mr. Johannes grinned sweetly. Leaning to her ear like a hungry snake, he hissed smoothly, "You know, Odala, if you fix the spill in the ballroom very well, I'll take you to my room and treat you like a _queen_ again..."

Vermilion's heart stopped. She did _not_ like the sound of that statement.

"Mr. Johannes, what do you want with me? Leave me alone!" the maid almost squealed. She started trembling even more, but the guard suddenly wrapped his burly arm tightly around her shoulders and trapped her. She squirmed even more, and Vermilion could smell the utter terror coming from the defenseless maid.

He started to stroke her face. The guard whispered, "You'll like it as much as you did last time."

"I did _not_ like it last time, Mr. Johannes! _Stop touching me!_"

"Fine! Then I'll tell Mr. Warrenson about the diamond and gold earrings that you stole from his mistress' purse! How will he like _that?_ How much did you sell them for, I wonder. A thousand? Ten thousand? Oh, Mr. Warrenson would be _furious!_"

At this point, he put his hand over her mouth and forced her against the wall.

"The heck with this!" Vermilion snarled before leaping onto Mr. Johannes' back.

Reaching both of her furry hands around his body and onto his face, she dug her claws deeply into his head and raked with all her might. Her right index finger snagged inside his right eyelid, and she _pulled._ She felt his skin rip brutally and quickly sank her teeth into his neck, making sure to hit the coronary artery. The brassy taste of blood exploded in her mouth, and she clenched her teeth in further and _pulled_ again. A small patch of skin ripped off as she drew out her fangs and spat out the pig's blood.

Mr. Johannes screamed loudly before Vermilion swung herself around him with her new climbing powers and pushed him backwards. The back of his head banged against the metal edge of the cabinet before falling to the hard tile floor. He stared wide-eyed at his new attacker with his intact left eye and bleeding right eye. Muscle and fat were revealed from the skin peeled off by Vermilion's claws.

Just before he could scream at the sight of the half human, half cat creature that was killing him, Vermilion slammed her right forearm on his throat and kept pressing. What remained of his face began to turn blue when Vermilion leaned in just an inch from his face and sneered:

"Tell me: is it true that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes? Then tell me about the toys you broke when you were a kid or about the kids you stole lunches from at the playground. How about when you cheated your way into college or partied all night before the next exam. No, wait, tell me about the woman you first forced yourself onto―because nobody loves you because you're such a huge dick, so you have to steal it for yourself on unsuspecting victims like that young lady over there. Am I in the ballpark, Mr. Johannes? Because as I'm closing your trachea, I bet the devil is saving a spot for you in hell. But don't worry! _He'll treat you like a queen._"

Just as Vermilion's impromptu tirade finished, Mr. Johannes left this earth.

Vermilion turned around to see Odala staring at the strange cat woman in shock. Her eyes had flown open, and her pupils had shrunk to a size Vermilion thought was impossible. Vermilion saluted and casually said, "Sorry for the scare. I didn't mean for it to get too graphic. At first I was thinking of, like, just snapping his neck or something, but I think that would not have been enough."

Completely paralyzed at this point, Odala could not tear her gaze from the cat lady in the Army pants. Who was this…this thing? Was it a cat or a human? Was she a demon sent to frighten her or an angel sent to save her? Did she just murder Mr. Johannes out of blood thirst or out of vengeance?

After a silent minute, Vermilion realized that Odala probably was too traumatized to say or think anything intelligent, so she climbed up the cabinets and into an air vent and left Odala alone. Vermilion never saw that woman again.

9:45 P.M.

The closet fiasco ate up more than forty minutes.

And now that Vermilion thought of it, murdering somebody else besides Mr. Warrenson in the middle of a dinner party was a huge mistake―sure, she saved Odala from El P*ndejo Grandisimo, but it's not like the body of a man with more than half of his face torn off wasn't going to attract any attention! Now, everybody at the party would know that there's a killer in the house!

_Nice job, Sokolov, _she scolded herself. _The greatest hitwoman in the world just made the stupidest mistake in the book! _

She pushed her anger aside, though, because now she had less than two hours to get to the Mademoiselle. She decided to let her nose guide her. It was pretty accurate so far, so why not take it for granted?

_What does Gerald Warrenson smell like?_ she wondered. She crawled down the tight, cool air vent away from the closet. She was passing over a grate when she heard two men below her. One of them spoke into a walkie-talkie, so she knew they were guards.

"There's been a fatality in the ballroom!"

"Bull."

"No, I'm being serious! Somebody just attacked Aaron! A maid found his body in the closet!"

Alarmed, the other guard replied, "Where's Mr. Warrenson!?"

"He's lucky," the first answered. "He's in his room upstairs."

"That Chloe girl with him?"

"Of course not! His wife's at the party tonight! You really think he'd bring her in if the missus was in the same building?"

Vermilion rolled her eyes. She might as well be on the set of some soap opera. _Guess that means I should get going…_

She quietly skittered down the vent and searched for a way up. After only five minutes, she spotted an upwards vent with a fan spinning rapidly above her. She reached into her pocket to pull out her knife and carefully held it up to the fan. Right in the center of the blades was a hubcap fastened by six screws. One by one, Vermilion used the blade of the dagger as a screwdriver. When the sixth screw was completely ajar, the hubcap gave way, and the blades spun out of place, nearly scraping Vermilion's scalp. She held her arm up to stop the blades before realizing that was a stupid idea. The blade smacked the back of her arm really hard. The fan finally stopped, but a black line where the blade hit started to form on her arm. She gritted her teeth and inhaled sharply to ease the pain.

Ignoring her bruised arm, she climbed effortlessly up the chute onto the second-story vent system. She held up her nose and took a deep breath. The smell of cologne and deodorant wafted from behind her. She followed the scent to the very end of the vent to another grate. Vermilion peeked out.

Right below her was a large beige-painted bedroom complete with a redbrick fireplace and a king-sized bed adorned with gold silk bed sheets and less than a dozen tasseled pillows with small brown and black beads sewn along the edges. A bearskin carpet that looked like it came from a really angry bear had its mouth propped open towards a small golf ball approximately five feet away. Steadying the iron carefully in front of the ball stood a tall man with graying brown hair and slight wrinkles. Studying his distance with his steely gray eyes, he concentrated on his drive. After tapping the ball swiftly into the bear's mouth, he whipped out his Samson and spoke into it.

"What is it now, Craig?" he groaned in a crisp British accent. After a second, he spoke again, "Stop yelling and start making some sense! Aaron was _murdered?_ He just rang me ten minutes ago! Put him on the phone."

As he kept talking, he strolled across the room and slipped his golf iron into a large bag hanging from the wall inside his walk-in closet. Now that he was distracted, Vermilion pried open the grate with her claws and slipped out. Hanging thirty feet from the ceiling, she clung to the edge and anxiously watched Mr. Warrenson turn from his closet. In one split second, she dropped to the carpet on all fours and scrammed behind the bed.

She took in several sharp breaths, waiting for the rich man to see her. She couldn't see him anymore, but she was too scared to glance around the corner of the bed. Suddenly feeling some weight behind her, she gasped―and was relieved to find out that he was just sitting on the other side of the bed. She stole a look from behind her to see that he was still on the phone, with his back towards her.

She looked at her watch.

9:58 P.M.

_Watch your back, punk. _

Without thinking, she stood up and leaped toward the oil mogul's broad shoulders. Claws unsheathed, they sank deep into his business suit. The fabric immediately started to turn red. Mr. Warrenson was shoved off the bed. Confused for a second, Mr. Warrenson didn't respond until a very, very long second, and the pain didn't sting until he looked over his shoulder. He began to yell in pure agony before Vermilion clamped her furry hand over his mouth.

Wild-eyed and sweating, he stared at the strange cat-woman behind him. His screams were pillowed by her hand.

"Oh, please," she sneered. "You're not the first rich guy to be assassinated."

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she reached behind her for her pistol, but a large fist struck her right between the eyes before she could make a move. Mr. Warrenson wriggled free and quickly headed for the door, but just as his hand touched the doorknob, two bullets seared his right thigh. Clenching his leg and groaning, he fell to his knees and planted his face in his carpeting.

Shaking and too much in pain to get up, he stared at the scary woman with orange hair, cat ears, and fur. "Who are you?" he growled hoarsely. "_Who sent you!?_"

Vermilion put her face exactly one inch away from his, stared coldly into his eyes, and said:

"Your wife."

The last bullet went right between his eyes.

The burlap sack wasn't that big, and while extracting his heart from his corpse proved to be very hard, it also proved quite messy. A thick, red coating completely covered the carpet, his suit, her hands (Paws? Hands?), her arms, and his furniture. Vermilion desperately tried not to get any blood on her clothing and made a note to wash her hands _thoroughly_ before she left. She thought about simply bringing the body to Mademoiselle Lafayette's place, but there was no way she would be taking any risks on her deal with the old voodoo lady. Also, carrying two hundred fifty pounds of famous old man over shoulder was not only going to slow her down but also attract a lot of unwanted attention.

It took a painstaking five minutes to saw through Mr. Warrenson's ribcage, and Vermilion was starting to gag. The more dangerous parts of the cardio-ectomy were when his iPhone would vibrate. The first time it rang, she read the name "Craig" on the ID. At first, she thought of imitating her victim's voice, but then realized that if Craig and Mr. Warrenson had known each other for a very long time, then it shouldn't take to long for Craig to smell a rat.

Vermilion considered texting him back, but that meant smudging her fingerprints all over his phone…unless, of course, she picked up his hand and used his finger to punch the buttons on the touchscreen.

**MR. WARRENSON: **What do you want now?

**CRAIG: **Why aren't you calling me?

**MR. W: **Low battery. Texting instead.

**CRAIG: ** WHERE ARE YOU? Everybody at the party getting suspicious.

**MR. W: **I'm just staying in the room. I'll be safer here.

**CRAIG: **I'm coming up

**MR. W: **No I'm fine. Stay where you are.

**CRAIG: **some people are calling the police, Gerald. Come down and calm them down.

**MR. W: **look I'm calling them too. If you go looking for me, you'll scare them even more. I'll be there in a bit.

**CRAIG: **I need a TIME, not just "in a bit." I'm almost at your door.

**MR. W: **No, STOP. STOP RIGHT NOW. What if the next target is one of the guests? Go back downstairs NOW. GO BACK GO BACK.

**CRAIG: **Excuse me?

**MR. W: **You heard me. Go protest the guests!

**CRAIG: **Protest?

**MR. W: ** PROTECT the guests! PROTECT PROTECT. Stupid Autocorrect!

**CRAIG: **I'm at your door.

**MR. W: **NO I'M NOT DRESSED.

**CRAIG: **What? WHY?

Panicking, Vermilion said loudly in her sweetest, most playful tone of voice possible, "Jerry, who are you texting so much?" The iPhone immediately vibrated again with Craig's new text:

**CRAIG: **You brought HER? HERE!? DUDE YOUR WIFE IS DOWNSTAIRS. THAT'S IT I'M COMING IN.

**MR. W: **NO CRAIG STAY OUT I MEAN IT!

**CRAIG: **Let's see what Chloe says when she finds out there's a murderer on the loose, you lying son of a―

Vermilion didn't stick around. Mr. Gerald's heart was already in her hand, so she stuffed it in the bag and hightailed it for the window across the room. As she heard the door knob turn, she frantically opened the lock to the window, meticulously as to not get any blood on it, and slid out. Just as Craig opened the door, she slid the window closed and used the back of her hand to wipe off a small drop of blood that left itself on the lock. Right behind her was a tall tree that she leaped blindly into and crashed onto a branch.

She heard Craig scream from the other side of the window. Vermilion started wiping her hands on her sack until they were mostly clean. What did her watch say?

10: 09 P.M.

Exactly one hour and thirty-five minutes until the deal was off. _I gotta move!_ she thought as she jumped down from branch to branch with only the light of the half-moon to guide her. She tumbled to the grass and headed straight for the wall. As she approached it, she heard a myriad of guards bark orders and swarm out the front and side doors.

_News travels fast, _she thought. Tying her bag in a knot and swinging it up the wall, she scrambled up it and toppled over to the other side. Now she had to get to her bike that she parked all the way on the other side of the mansion. Without thinking, she dashed to her right.

Police sirens echoed from not too far away. Vermilion ran as fast as her legs could carry her along the outer edge of the wall. Her bag swung back and forth violently, and she hoped desperately that she wasn't leaving some obvious trail of blood droplets behind her to give her away. She quickly looked behind her and sighed in relief. She neither saw nor smelt a trail. She did, however, hear and smell a squad of four guards hurrying in her direction. Running faster, she searched for a place to hide as they passed but came up empty. There were no shrubs or trees to hide in nor any rocks to duck behind.

The quickening footsteps of the guards thundered closer and closer to her. Improvising, she hurled her bag over the wall again and leaped up the wall. Just around the corner, the guards swiped their flashlights in all directions, and one fell on her as she jumped down to the other side.

"THERE! ON THE WALL!" he barked.

Another light beam flashed her way, and another guard yelled, "I SAW A TAIL!"

A third one ordered, "JUST A CAT! MOVE! MOVE! _MOVE!_"

Vermilion braced herself against the wall as the guards disappeared. Picking up her bag, she rushed up the wall again and decided to stay running up there. The wall was about a foot and a half thick, so balancing on the top wasn't much of a problem if you stayed near the middle―and since she had cat powers now, she could land on her feet if she fell. _If the guards come again,_ she reasoned, _I'll just leap back on the inner side. If they find me, I'll attack them from up here._

She also gained a height advantage by being able to see further. From where she was, she could see most of the lush ten acre lawn that surrounded the manor and everybody that set foot on it, not to mention that she could small and hear them sharply, too. Vermilion also noticed the excellent night vision that she gained. Even thought the sky was pitch black with only the half-moon out, it was just enough light out for her eyes to see everything around her perfectly.

She smirked. Unlike the guards, she didn't _need_ a flashlight! _You can't see me, but I can see you!_

She rounded a corner and headed along the east side of the acreage towards where she first entered the mansion, right where she got her cat powers more than an hour before. Assuring that the coast was clear, she bounded down to the ground and kept sprinting. Suddenly, she heard more voices behind her. Her nose picked up about five men―with guns―following her.

"WHO'S THAT?"

"HEY YOU! SHOW YOURSELF!"

Panic seared through Vermilion's veins. She silently begged her legs to run faster. As the men rumbled down towards her, she raced faster. She started to hear her own heartbeat throb in her ears. She looked down at the pistol now tucked in her pants and pondered over what she should do next. _If I shoot at them, they might shoot back, and if they're lucky, they might injure me and catch me. Plus, the people back at the mansion would hear my gunshots. But my bike is a long ways away from here. If I keep running, I'll run out of steam soon enough, and they'll get me. Or they'll just shoot me. There are no trees to head for. No bystanders to shoot to distract them. No physical obstacles to throw in their way. What do I do now!? _

Suddenly, an idea came to her.

As she ran, she untied the knot on her bag and pulled out the heart. The blood was already starting to pool, and the muscles had stiffened slightly. She put the heart up to her mouth and―dreadfully trying not to vomit―she smeared the organ over her mouth. She stifled something coming up from her stomach. _Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, _she thought, _ew, ew, ew,ew,ew,ew,ew,ew, ew, ew,ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew,eeeeeEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW…._

She then smeared the heart over her neck and arms, making sure they were entirely immersed in red.

"This better work," she snarled to herself. She stuffed the heart back into the bag and tossed away in front of her. Turning to face the guards, she took a deep breath and got on all fours.

"It's showtime."

As the guards pointed their guns at her and beamed the flashlights into her eyes, Vermilion stared them right into their faces and made the biggest, toothiest, and creepiest smile she could think of. The guards stopped dead in their tracks, pointing their flashlights at her. She was in full view. Vermilion then started growling from deep within her throat which created a sound that resembled something between gargling and snarling. One of the men asked, "Who…what is that?"

She then craned her head as far to her left as she possibly could, smiled even wider, and began making a slow hissing noise.

While she did all this, she started to creep forward.

Some of the guards stepped back.

She couldn't help smiling _even more._ She silently cheered, _I think it's working!_

The guard at the front, a wide-shouldered man who appeared to be the leader of the squad, stepped forward and remained calm. Obviously, he was more experienced. One of his members asked, "Sir, what is that?"

That was when Vermilion noticed something else about her new nose: it could smell emotions. She could distinctly sniff out the hormones of fear secreting and circulating throughout the bloodstream of most of the guards. Her ears picked up the nuance in their breathing patterns, the hastening of their heartbeats, and the trickling of the sweat dripping from their foreheads. Only the front guard showed the least change in emotion, but Vermilion was determined to throw this guy off his game.

The main guard ignored him and set the barrel of the pistol exactly one inch away from her head. "Who are you?"

Vermilion silently counted to three and replied eerily:

"_Oni nazyvayut menya Sokolov._"

Suddenly, she started scrambling and scurrying around the guards' legs like crazy. As she started scratching their legs, one guard screamed at the top of his lungs and wailed, "_RUUUUN!_" Vermilion turned to that guard, leaped on him, and put her face an inch away from his. She then screeched as loud as she could, spat in his eyes, and scratched his cheeks. The guard screamed even more before somebody grabbed her from behind and boxed her ears. Vermilion ignored the ringing in her ears and somersaulted behind her, toppling the guard behind her and trampling all over him. She kept the act up, screeching viciously and thrashing this way and that with her claws, snagging some skin as she went. She spotted another guard's hand and sunk her fangs into it. The guard screamed and shook his arm violently, but Vermilion bit own harder and dug her claws into his arm.

She spun the guard from his arm and threw him into the rest of the entourage. They fell over but immediately scrambled to their feet and started running back towards the mansion.

Suddenly, an arm locked around her neck from behind, and she felt something cold and metallic on the side of her head.

Her blood turned cold. She knew what was being held to her head.

Without thinking, she shoved her right arm up next to her and pushed her assailant's arm up. She felt the barrel of the handgun as her opponent pulled the trigger.

The bullet soared into the sky.

Vermilion's ears rung loudly from the blast of the gunshot, but she just gritted her teeth and socked her attacker with her right elbow. She turned to her right slightly and kneed him hard before punching him in the nose.

Her attacker was the main guard. "You're dead!" he growled, pointing the gun at her again. She kicked the gun out of his hands and into the air. It sailed across the sky before falling into the grass several feet away. She dashed towards the weapon, and the lead guard followed closely behind her. When he inched closer, he grabbed her tail and pulled her back. Vermilion responded by scratching his eyes as he passed. When he covered his face in pain, she gained ahead of him.

Grabbing the pistol, she pointed it at the man.

He shouted, "DROP THE GU―"

Another gunshot blasted through the savannah.

The lead guard fell backwards into the grass with his eyes still open. The bullet hole in his forehead started to pool red blood and flow down his head.

Vermilion stood there, breathing heavily. She was drenched in sweat―so much that half of the blood she covered herself with had poured into the grass.

Suddenly, her DNA mark began to feel warm. She noticed that it was glowing again.

"…de-metamorphose?" she panted.

The gold light started to spread up and down her arms again. Her torso and legs became engulfed in light again, and the glow covered her entire shoulders, neck, and head. Another jolt of electricity dashed down her spine and tingled in her hips. When the glowing stopped, Vermilion looked at herself again.

Her fur was gone. Her tail was missing. She studied her hands. They were her normal hands, with nails instead of claws, with skin instead of orange fur. She touched her nose. It was her normal nose again, and her whiskers were gone, too. Reaching to the side of her head, she felt her normal, human ears.

She took out her knife. With her back towards the moon, she looked at her reflection in the blade. She was back to normal again―freckles, green eyes, heart-shaped face, and short, red hair. She was still, however, covered in blood, but otherwise, she was completely human again.

Suddenly, she thought of something: _What time is it?_ Her watch said:

11:19 P.M.

"_OH CRAP!"_ she screamed, quickly switching the safety on the gun and stuffing it into her belt and slipping her dagger into her holder. She dashed to her motorcycle a couple feet away, hopped on, and zoomed down the savannah, bloody burlap sack flapping in the wind.

Vermilion turned into the dirt road the Mademoiselle lived on. Her watch said 11:40 P.M.

_Four more minutes,_ she thought frantically. She quickly double-checked that the heart was in the bag. She drove her bike at a whopping ninety miles per hour. As she approached the hut, she swerved to a stop and created a large cloud of dust enveloping her and the front gate.

Her watch said 11:43 P.M.

_One minute!_

She immediately raced to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked! "The f—k with this!" she yelled and elbowed the door as heard as she could.

The door crashed down, and Vermilion sped down the hall to the very room she was in nearly twenty-four hours before and proclaimed, "I DID IT!"

The room was empty. The moonlight barely crept into the hut through the door. The large clay pot that had once spewed magical gases and bubbled potions was now dormant. The eerie silence in the shanty deafened Vermilion. She searched behind her and around her for the Mademoiselle, becoming more anxious.

"HEY!" she yelled frantically. "I'M HERE! I GOT HERE ON TIME! WHERE THE H—L ARE YOU!?" Her calls echoed off the walls. Nothing stirred from them except the sweat dripping from her forehead. Panic began to absorb her. She dashed back towards the front door and slammed open the closet next to it, but it was filled with nothing but mutilated voodoo dolls.

She heard two voices behind the door in another room down the hall:

"These drinks will sell a fortune!"

"Tell us what they are, hag, and we'll split the money."

_What?_ she thought. _That doesn't sound like her…_

Shoving the rickety door open, she screamed, "YOU BETTER BE IN THERE, YOU―"

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Cringing and bleeding heavily in the corner of the room, Mademoiselle Lafayette quivered erratically with a wide look of fear in her eyes, both tied up in a thick rope that rubbed her skin and paralyzed by something on the other side of the room that Vermilion turned to see.

The two men that Vermilion saw turned back to look at her. Both had skin nearly as black as night, so Vermilion instantly knew they were locals―but she noticed that unlike the locals who had only a thin layer of fat on their arms and slightly bulging stomachs, these men appeared quite well-nourished and in peak physical health. One man was taller than the other and had short, curly hair while the shorter of the two had a shaved head. Vermilion also noticed an automatic rifle slung casually over the shoulder of the shoulder of the taller one, and the shorter one was obviously pointing his two pistols at the Mademoiselle. The taller one was sticking his left hand into the Mademoiselle's cabinet while his entire right arm was holding several jars of mysterious magical concoctions.

The men's voices echoed in Vermilion's head: _These drinks will sell a fortune! _She immediately recognized the situation: drug dealers. They must've found out about the ingredients the voodoo priestess used in her potions and wanted to see who'd get high off of them.

"I'm pretty sure you won't find a good high in those," she sneered at them defiantly.

The shorter one pointed his guns away from the priestess and towards her. "Who are you!?" he demanded.

"None of your business," Vermilion spat back, "but I do have some business with the Mademoiselle over yonder, so do us both a favor and get your skinny little $$es out of here." With that, she whipped out her gun and pointed it at him.

The taller one chuckled. "Or what? You'll shoot us with that little gun? There's two of us and one of you, sweetheart."

"No, there's one of _you_ who's struggling over a crapload of breakable jars that you're placing all your money on and one of _you_ who has to keep an eye on both me and one of the greatest witch doctors in the world," Vermilion corrected. "Not to mention that there's one of _me_, who not only has more than a million dollars over my head _for a very good reason_ but also has unbeatable magical creature powers that I will use to kick your butts to kingdom come. Oh yeah, and I also have a bag with a four-pound head inside that I can swing around _like this!_"

With that, she swung her burlap sack around and slung it as hard as she could at the shorter man. He shot both of his guns at her, but she ducked in the nick of time and swung her leg close to the floor towards his feet. Double-hit by the bag on the head and Vermilion's kick on the shins, the shorter man toppled over. Vermilion immediately seized the guns he dropped and pointed them at the tall man, who was now placing all the jars on the ground as carefully and quickly as he could. Not getting his machine rifle soon enough, Vermilion shot his right elbow and left wrist.

The taller man groaned loudly in agony, stalling enough time for Vermilion to scurry over to the Mademoiselle and free her. Whipping out her bowie knife, she sawed the rope that was tied so tightly, it made the witch doctor's skin bleed slightly. "Mademoiselle," she panted, "I have the head!"

"I see dat, Vermilion," the witch doctor gasped. "Now LOOK BEHIND YOU!"

She turned around just as the taller man struggled to hold his automatic rifle and began raining bullets on her. Suddenly, a black force field appeared between Vermilion and certain death. Vermilion sat there wincing before realizing that she was still alive.

"Spitfire!" the Mademoiselle called, with her hands held up and glowing. "I am protecting you from dis madman! I can only keep de force field up for so long! He'll run out of bullets before den!"

"Don't worry, Mademoiselle!" Vermilion yelled. "I'll protect you!"

The priestess nodded before turning to their assailant and yelling, "Dat gun of yours will break de jars before it kills us!"

Vermilion smirked and yelled, "Yeah, you idiot! There goes your supply!"

Sure enough, two of the jars were already broken and spilling magical purple and red concoctions all over the floor. Vermilion heard the Mademoiselle groan under her breath, "I hope nobody asks for necromancy or love potions any time soon."

Making use of her time, Vermilion readied herself for transformation. "Hey, Mademoiselle!" she called. "Thanks for the creature powers! To show you some gratitude, I'mma beat the crap out of this guy with them. **Vermilion metamorphosis!**"

For a second, she forgot that she didn't have her needle with her―but that was when her spine began to tingle. She peered to her right and gasped. Her mark was glowing! The gold light spread down her arm, leaving traces of orange fur behind.

"My God!" she laughed. "It works from memory!"

The same warm, fizzy feeling spread throughout her body along with the gold light. As her ears transformed from human ears to cat ears and her tail sprouted from behind her, her muscles tensed, and an immense sensation of physical pleasure electrified Vermilion. As soon as she finished, she unsheathed her claws and braced herself.

The bullets suddenly fell short, and just as the taller man started to reload, the force field dissipated, unleashing Vermilion with unstoppable force. Charging towards the assailant, she raked her claws clear across his face. The taller man screamed in agony and stared wide-eyed at the new and improved Vermilion Sokolov―claws, tail, and all.

She pounced onto his shoulders and shoved him to the ground. She grinned and snarled, "What did you expect from breaking into the house of a sorceress? Now you will die not only by her but also by the queen of all hitmen!"

Something wrapped around her neck from behind. Vermilion gagged. It was a rope. It was the shorter man, who Vermilion had completely forgotten about. The rope wrung tighter, and Vermilion tried to inhale. Her lungs began to burn. Her cheeks grew hot with effort. Her vision began to blur when she suddenly heard screaming behind her, and the rope released her throat.

She gasped loudly for breath and coughed before turning around. Behind her, two giant vines had sprouted from the dirt floor and entangled themselves around the shorter man, lifting him high up while he was screaming. The vines began hitting him against the ceiling so hard that drops of blood began to spurt from his mouth. Vermilion looked across the room and saw Mademoiselle Lafayette standing firmly on her feet, holding her hands up to puppet the vines, whispering incantations under her breath.

Before she knew it, Vermilion's eyes were sent whirling by a punch to the face. The taller man had started to fight back and was throwing punches at her. After dodging three times, she grabbed his left fist at the fourth attempt and swung him across the room. She then ran over to him and kicked him repeatedly in the face and ribs before he rolled under her and tried to grab her feet to take her down. She responded to this by jumping up and landing her two feet exactly on his face and then stepping hard with her right foot on his throat.

The Mademoiselle's vines launched the shorter man towards the door that Vermilion came in through just a few minutes earlier and smashed the doorway. He landed unconscious on his back.

Vermilion originally thought of choking the robber with her boot until he was done for, but she decided instead to let go just as he was about to black out then slash him some more with her claws in the arms and face. When he was completely helpless, she hoisted him up over her shoulder and bolted towards the front door.

She slammed it open and hurled her assailant across the lawn. She quickly headed for his friend and did the same, not caring whether he was alive or not. The taller man had regained most of his consciousness when she threw his friend at him, but his eyes spread wide with complete shock at her, hyperventilating.

Vermilion called after them, "Let this be a lesson to you crapfaces! Go home to your cute little drug lord and tell him that nobody is to go anywhere near the home of Mademoiselle Lafayette! To steal from this house is to court with death! And if he gives you any shred of doubt, TELL HIM THAT VERMILION SOKOLOV SENDS HER REGARDS!"

The door slammed shut. No robbers ever came near Mademoiselle Lafayette's home ever again.


	12. Kratts vs Sokolov and Varmitech

**Chapter 12: Kratts vs. Sokolov and Varmitech**

**If you didn't want to read all eighteen pages of Chapter 11, here's the summary:**** Vermilion was sick and tired of being beaten by animals often whenever she hunted because they could run faster than her or fly away from her. She learned about a voodoo witch doctor named Mademoiselle Lafayette and made a deal with her to get creature powers. In return for getting her powers, Vermilion had to assassinate a rich oil mongrel named Gerald Warrenson and bring her his heart (ew, I know.). The Mademoiselle then casts a spell on Vermilion that gives her creature powers. Vermilion was more than happy to do so, and while tracking down her victim down, she also got to kill one of Mr. Warrenson's guards who was terrorizing one of the maids in Mr. Warrenson's big mansion. She also got to try out her very first creature power: a house cat, from which she got the DNA from Mr. Warrenson's cat by drawing out his blood through her syringe and injecting it into her magical DNA mark. Upon killing Mr. Warrenson, she almost got caught by his guards but escaped by scaring the living crap out of them with her creature powers. When she arrived at Mademoiselle Lafayette's house, she discovered two robbers holding the witch doctor hostage and stealing her potions for the drug market. Vermilion saves the witch doctor, and together, they drove out the robbers. **

**AND NOW WE SHALL GO BACK TO THE STORY!**

Aviva couldn't stop staring. She couldn't stop shaking. With every breath she took, she felt closer to passing out. Chris had been right this whole time. This woman…had _creature powers._ More importantly, she had _magic _creature powers. "But," she panted, "it's impossible. There's no such thing."

Her mind struggled helplessly against a blinding blizzard of thoughts. _Voodoo? Spells? This can't be right! I…I must be dreaming! _

Suddenly, Vermilion swiped her boot across Martin's other cheek, knocking him over, and lunged at Chris. Martin fell flat on his back on the ground but stood up again. _I'm not letting you_ _beat me again!_ he thought angrily.

Vermilion quickly pummeled Chris twice on the nose before kicking him across the floor and into a wall. "Zach!" she ordered. "Take my sack and hide the serval someplace safe! I'll distract these two!"

Zach stood there for a second before quickly grabbing the bag and yelling, "Zachbots!" Five Zachbots hovered to his side.

"You three help me hide the kitty! You two help Vermilion kill the Wild Rats!"

Saluting, two of the Zachbots flew to the fight. Vermilion, bracing herself for Martin, who was now charging at her, noticed them at the corner of her eye. Hearing steps behind her, she whirled around to claw at an attacking Chris. Chris, realizing he had claws, too, dodged her attack and swiped at her legs. Vermilion responded with a kick to the chest and pounced on Chris, quickly turning around behind him and trapping him in a chokehold with her right arm around his neck.

Meanwhile, the Zachbots interrupted Martin's offense by extending their arms and tripping him. One Zachbot grabbed his tail and swung him around in a circle before tossing him over the edge of the boat. Martin's head was spinning as he fell, but he managed to grab hold of the railing to lift himself up and swing his feet up into both Zachbots' faces, smashing them to bits.

_Drat!_ Vermilion thought. _There go my reinforcements. _Then, she got an idea. "Hey, Chris!" she sneered loudly into his ear. "Ain't servals supposed to be able to jump really high?"

Chris didn't like the way she said that. In a split second, he found out why.

She hunched down and leaped clear into the sky, taking Chris with her. Sailing high above the yacht and trying to get free from Vermilion's grasp, he thrashed his legs violently. He started trying to scratch Vermilion when he felt something whack his chest.

"Deactivate!" Vermilion yelled.

Chris' heart stopped.

"No!" he panicked wildly. "NO NO NO, _DON'T DEACTIVATE!_"

It was too late. Chris' suit turned green again, making his sharp claws, powerful legs, and sensitive ears retract back into the suit. The green lenses that went over his eyes to simulate the serval's keen eyesight retracted, and his spots vanished. In less than a second, his suit was back to normal.

"No!" he gasped. "My serval powers!"

Vermilion laughed loudly. "You can't do that with _my_ serval powers!" she exclaimed. "And now that you can't land on your feet like a serval can, let's watch you fall to your death!"

With that, she threw him into the air before falling down towards the yacht. Just as she landed safely on her feet, she quickly looked for Martin―who was not on the yacht anymore. _Or is he?_ she thought. Using her serval ears, she picked up the sound of Martin's racing feet heading to where Zach went to hide her hunter's prize. She immediately dashed after him. _Chris won't survive that fall, so I'm good up here,_ she considered. _Besides, Zach might need my help. _

"Zachbots!" Zach ordered, riding on the shoulders of one of his most obedient robots. "Distract Blue Boy while I hide this!" But Zach was beginning to doubt himself as three more of his Zachbots got pounced and pummeled by Martin. Plus, the kitty-cat in Vermilion's bag was starting to squirm even more. _I'm not getting scratched again!_ he thought worriedly. _What am I supposed to do now!?_

He suddenly heard a loud crash behind him. He turned around. Right on top of Martin was Vermilion with her claws on his head and her legs pinning him to the ground. "ZACH!" she yelled. "GO AND KILL IT ALREADY!"

Blue Boy screamed, "_NO!_"

"SHUT UP, WON'T YOU!?" she snarled at him slamming his face to the ground. Looking at Zach again, she called, "ZACH! PLEASE TELL ME YOU HAVE ARSENIC OR SALINE SOMEWHERE ON THIS YACHT!"

Zach quickly answered, "Yeah, I have both!"

Martin tumbled her over and was on top of her for a second before she wrestled on top of him again. "GOOD! I want you to go ahead and euthanize the stupid furball!" Using her knees to pin Martin's shoulders to the ground, she reached into her pocket and pulled out an empty syringe.

"HEADS UP, ZACH!" she yelled.

The syringe sailed clear over Zach's head, but the Zachbot he was riding on stretch its arm to grab it and hand it to him. Zach studied it for a bit. It was quite clean except for an old label on it that said "black-footed ferret."

"But Vermilion!" he called back. "If I give this back to you, there might still be traces of arsenic in it!"

"THEN KEEP IT!" she yelled. "I have plenty more where that came from!"

"NOOOOOO!" Martin shrieked in fear as he socked Vermilion in the nose and kicked her back. Vermilion landed on her back and lost Martin when she got up. He hunched his serval legs and leaped clear across the floor at one of the Zachbots. In a brutal mix of rage and terror, Martin shredded the Zachbot with his claws screaming at the top of his lungs, "_DON'T YOU LAY A FINGER ON EAVESDROP!_"

One Zachbot after the other was smashed under Martin's serval powers while Vermilion chased after him. Zach disappeared behind a door, and the lock gave a heart-stopping _click. _

Martin pounced the door and tried desperately to yank it open. "NO NO NO NO NO!" Martin screeched. "EAVESDROP, NO NO NO!"

Vermilion sneered, "If I ain't mistaken, hippie, that's a deadbolt lock. You might as well be trying to shoot through a concrete wall."

Horror consumed Martin through the blood that raced in his veins and the pores where beads of sweat were pouring down his face. _No,_ he thought frantically, _this can't be it! What am I to do!? _

Suddenly, he heard a different kind of _click_ behind him. He spun around and found himself staring straight down the barrel of a jet-black semiautomatic pistol. Vermilion had already cocked it and released the safety. She grinned delightfully and laughed, "What? I'm doing you a favor, Martin. You need _something_ to fill that space between your ears. Might as well be lead."

Just as Vermilion began to squeeze the trigger, a brilliant idea popped into Martin's head. Without thinking, he dodged the barrel and seized Vermilion's arm before using his serval legs to kick her aside. Her arm was pulled away from her and twisted by Martin's hand. Vermilion knew this move. She had used it countless times before in hand-to-hand combat. Cursing herself for making herself so vulnerable, she stubbornly held onto the gun until she thought Martin would pop her hand off. The weapon clattered onto the floor, and Martin swiped it up and started shooting towards the lock. The first two shots ricocheted off the lock and shot around the room, but the third made a pretty decent dent on the lock. Before she could pounce on Martin, the seventh gunshot quickly snapped the lock open.

As he used the gun, a million thoughts zoomed through his head. H e remembered the day he went to the forest and discovered a deer that looked like Swiss cheese when he was seventeen. He remembered the day when he found the body of his neighbor's cat on the side of the road when he was eleven. He remembered when he brought a bird with a head injury into his house and, after trying to cure the poor thing, watching it pass away right in front of him.

_Not again,_ he thought. _Not this time._

The door flew open.

Two Zachbots pinned Eavesdrop to a metal table.

Zach positioned Vermilion's syringe filled with a sickly yellow liquid two inches away from her skin.

Martin didn't remember exactly what happened after that. At one moment, Zach was on the floor groaning in pain. The next moment, the two Zachbots had crashed into each other. The moment after that, Eavesdrop was in his arms, and he was running down the hall again.

Zach came to his senses and ran next to Vermilion.

"Jesus Christ!" she yelled. "The bastard's gone rabid!"

"ZACHBOTS, GET HIM!" Zach thundered.

Not wasting another minute, Vermilion dashed after Martin and pulled the trigger.

Martin heard a _bang_, and a computerized voice on his suit said, "Warning: suit condition at 98% capacity. Damage evident at tail."

"What?" Martin said before looking behind him. Sure enough, his tail had a good-sized dent at the tip where Vermilion's bullet hit him. Before he knew it, more shots were fired at him. Fearing for both his and Eavesdrop's life, he sped even faster towards the deck. His suit protected him from the bullets, but each shot still felt like an impact from a paintball gun. Martin wouldn't be surprised if he found a small bruise or two on his back when―or if―he got out of this mess. Unfortunately, the bullets were also destroying the inner workings of his suit:

_Bang!_

"90% capacity."

_Bang! Bang!_

"82% capacity."

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

"73% capacity."

"That's right, Kratt!" she sneered. "Eat my lead!" In almost no time at all, she reloaded her pistol, cocked it, and began shooting again. Martin had to turn a sharp corner to get away, which stole valuable seconds of his time, but when Vermilion rounded the same corner, she not only ran around the corner faster but also made use of the extra time b pulling out another loaded pistol, thus firing at Martin with both guns.

Zach arrived close behind her on the shoulders of one of his Zachbots. Another Zachbot was next to him. "Need a lift?" he called.

"Thanks, man!" she yelled, leaping onto the second Zachbot and continuing to fire. "_WHOOOOOO HOOOOO!_" she laughed. "NOW THIS IS WHAT I CALL A REVERSE COWGIRL!"

"How'd you round that corner so fast!?" Zach asked.

"Instead of making a sharp turn, I just made my turn rounder!" That way, I can use the centripetal force of my turn to turn left faster!" She fired her guns twice.

Zach, covering his ears with each gunshot, asked, "Where'd you learn that!?"

"This isn't the first time I've had to run around the inside of a building. I'll tell you right now, the floor plan on Riker's Island is a lot harder to run through than the one on your boat. I almost got caught twice when I was breaking out. Besides, haven't you learned anything from your high school physics class?"

_(Note from the author: That one's for you, Coach Chaya! I never thought I'd get through Physics B AP, but thank you so much for always helping us! I hope I didn't get a 1 on the test! Thank you!)_

Two more bullets clanged against the suit. Martin enclosed Eavesdrop in his arms to protect her, but he noticed every sting on his back from the bullets escalate in pain each time. He didn't know how long it would be until the bullets actually went through his body. The computerized voice reported:

"49% capacity."

As Martin dashed up a set of stairs, Aviva called on his creature pod.

"Martin!" she yelled. "I just got a message that your suit's in critical condition!"

"She's shooting me, Aviva! She has two guns with her, and _she knows how to use them!_"

Another shot. "41% capacity."

Aviva screamed, "If your suit reaches 20%, it'll start to shut down! And the damage might become irreversible!"

_Rattattatatat!_ "35% capacity."

He had no time to lose. Hunching his legs again, he leaped past the last eight steps and landed squarely on the main floor. Only two more doors to the deck!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

Plummeting to his death, Chris pressed the button on his suit countless times, but it was no use! Without another serval, he couldn't reactivate. Without serval powers, he couldn't land on his feet or make a rebound.

Suddenly, three Zachbots zoomed up towards him and swiped his limbs. With two gripping his arms and one gripping his leg, Chris became the rope in a tug-of-war match between the large robots. Chris struggled in vain. The Zachbots had always been too strong for him or Martin to handle without creature powers. Before he knew it, the Zachbots started tossing him around in the air as if he was some giant, green football. When he landed in the arms of one Zachbot, it would nearly squeeze all the air out of him with its burly grip, and when just when he thought he was going to suffocate, it hurled him towards another Zachbot, his arms and legs flailing madly in thin air.

After what seemed like years of the Kratt Bowl, he spotted his brother speeding across the deck with Eavesdrop in his arms. An array of bullet dents were splattered all over Martin's back and arms, and right behind him, Vermilion―still with serval powers―was proudly riding the shoulders of another Zachbot with a giant grin on her face and two jet-black semi-automatics, aiming effortlessly at Martin.

"RUN, MARTIN, RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!"

Martin peered up to see his brother tossed between three Zachbots nearly thirty feet above him. Just as he was about to rescue him, Chris yelled, "MARTIN, FORGET ME! GO SAVE EAVESDROP!"

Vermilion looked up, too. Noticing the other brother in the sky, she called, "Hey, Martin! How about a deal? If you hand over the serval, I'll stop shooting your brother!"

Martin stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. "_What!?_"

"Deal? Okay!" Vermilion chirped before shooting towards the sky.

Chris screamed even louder, knowing that a shower of bullets was headed straight towards him. He heard each one whiz by him, one barely scraping his hair. "MARTIN, FORGET ME!" he screeched. "GO SAVE EAVESDROP! I'LL STALL THEM FOR NOW!"

Vermilion fired four more shots and barked behind her, "Zach! I'm doing some target practice here! Go get Martin!"

Without hesitation, Zach ordered, "Zachbots, get Blue Boy!"

Five Zachbots immediately followed suit, including the ones throwing Chris around. Not only did he start plunging to his death again, but now he had to worry about the only gunman in the world with creature powers trying to shove bullets up his guts.

Six more bullets sped past him. At one point he felt a sharp stinging sensation on his legs. He peered down. It didn't go through his leg, but the bullet had grazed his skin, leaving a swipe of bright blood across the side of his thigh.

"Ha!" she jeered. "I've gotcha now, you bast―"

She pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

Switching to her left hand, she pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

"_Nyet!_" she snarled.

Slipping another load from her back pocket, she was halfway through reloading it when she realized Chris was _right above her._

Just as her gun was ready again, Chris had landed right on top of her, toppling the both of them to the ground. Through the ruckus, Vermilion spotted Martin getting to the railing. Kicking Chris and bashing his face with her gun, she snapped back up and dashed in his direction.

Martin braced himself in the starboard railing.

He lunged off the edge.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the Zachbots following him, with Zach leading the way on the shoulders of the first.

A split second later, Vermilion caught up to them, using her serval powers to jump off the side of the yacht.

In just three heartbeats, he slammed onto the savannah grass.

Martin smiled. Never in his life had he wanted to feel the pain from falling on the ground.

He opened his arms. Finally released, Eavesdrop ran clear away from the yacht.

Martin yelled, "NOW, JIMMY!"

Jimmy whipped out his phone, aimed the camera at Eavesdrop, and pressed the button on his touchscreen, yelling, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaand ZAP IT!"

A blue flash suddenly appeared, and Eavesdrop had disappeared.

"YES!" Martin cheered loudly. "WE SAVED HER!"

Chris, panting from the railing, whooped exhaustedly and gave a big thumbs-up in the air. "WE DID IT!" he called triumphantly. "Eavesdrop is safe!" He down the ramp from the deck to the ground, helped his brother up, and squeezed him in an enormous hug, laughing.

"_NYET!"_ Vermilion screamed. "This isn't happening!"

Filled with downright rage, she pounced on Martin, pinning him to the ground. Gripping her right hand over his throat, almost choking him, she readied her left hand up, claws unsheathed.

Martin gasped, "Please, don't kill me!"

She sneered, "'Please don't kill me! Please don't kill me!' No, Martin Kratt, death would be too kind for you!" Unsheathing her claws, she snarled nastily, "How about I shred your face into pieces instead!? It'll be like bloody, fleshy coleslaw!"

Martin closed his eyes, bracing for impact, but just as Vermilion began the first swipe, a strange noise was heard.

He looked up. She looked up. By that time, Zach was standing next to them, ready to watch his long-time enemy become mutilated by the girl of his dreams, and he looked up. Every Wild Kratt stared into the sky to watch a large, black Blackhawk striker hover above them. Its blades made a deafening din that made Jimmy and Aviva covered their ears as a policeman in the chopper called down, "Vermilion Sokolov! This is Interpol! You are under arrest! Put your hands in the air and remain where you are!"

Vermilion stared up at the helicopter and then stared down at the whimpering and wincing Martin. She realized that she had to choose between Martin's death and her escape. _If I finish him off now,_ she thought, _Interpol will go insane chasing after me. If I let him go, they might not be as aggressive. Crap…._

"Demetamorphose," she reluctantly sighed. Her DNA mark began to glow again, and after two seconds of gold light glowing throughout her body, all of her fur, claws, whiskers, and creature powers had disappeared. Vermilion was her normal, human self again.

"You're lucky Interpol is here," she stated coolly, giving the Wild Kratts a steely look. "But consider yourselves on my list. From this day forth, you are my sworn enemies, and all five of you will never forget the name Vermilion Sokolov!"

She mounted her motorcycle which was still parked near the shore of the lake.

As she put on her helmet, Zach started running to her. "Wait!" he called. "Will I ever see you again? Look, I'm sorry I couldn't stop the Kratts from taking your serval-kitty thing! I―"

"Zach," she started, "please don't blame yourself."

"…what?"

"That's my way of saying 'thank you.' You helped me the best you could, and I appreciate you for that. It's my fault for underestimating those buttholes," she explained. Smiling, she added, "What was it you called them again? Wild Rats?"

"Uh, yeah. Wait, I'll give you my number!"

"Phones are traceable," she replied. "If I had one, I wouldn't be sitting in front of you right now. But don't worry! I'll find you wherever you are."

"You sure?"

"Zach, everybody says I'm the world's greatest hitman. Finding people is my job. _Dos zvidániya!_"

Before he knew it, like a red comet speeding towards the reaches of space, Vermilion revved her bike and swerved around all the Kratts before zooming down the Serengeti. The chopper chased after her, yelling at her to stop.

Zach remained there, silently staring into her direction, thinking about the mischievous gleam she had in those emerald eyes before she left.

"There goes my heart," he whispered to himself.

**Конец. (The end.) **


End file.
